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AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 




AN INTERRUPTED 
HONEYMOON 


By 

JANE GROSVENOR COOKE 

M 

AUTHOR OF “ THE ANCIENT MIRACLE 




New York 

A, S. BARNES & COMPANY 
1907 



V ' 

r ^ 



ftt&KAPY of OOWGRESS 
iwu Oooie? Rocelfod 


OCT 23 '90f 


-]pCooyn«W Entry 

/Vo? 

CLSSsA XXc,, Htt 

f B'i- 

eoFY a. 


Copyright, 1907, by 
A. S. Barnes & Company 


All Rights Reserved 





CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

1. — ^The Wedding Eve .... i 

II. — An Unexpected Return . . i6 

III. — Sally Finds Shopping Difficult 32 

IV. — ^The Black Sheep Come to the 

Rescue , 47 

V. — ^An Important Announcement . 63 

VI. — ^The Judge’s Opinion • • • . 73 

VII. — ^William’s Holiday .... 89 

VIII. — ^A Question of Equity . . . 102 

IX. — Why Sally Intruded . . .113 

X. — A Country Vendue . . . .126 

XL — ^The Fate of a Church Pall . . 144 

XII. — A Black Sheep Falls Out . . 164 

XIII. — ^An Interrupted Repast . . . 179 

XIV. — ^The Day OF Disillusion . . . 193 

XV. — Hour of Reckoning .... 206 


VI 


CONTENTS 


XVI. — Belated Confession . . .215 

XVII. — ^The Deep Hole 231 

XVIII. — Little Joe Helps the Situation 247 

XIX. — In the Fields 267 

XX. — A Great Catastrophe . . 284 

XXL — Sally’s Revolt 299 

XXIL — ^The Old Hay Barn . . . * . 314 
XXIIL — In Kirton Society . . . . * . 321 
XXIV. — Final Certainties. Conclusion 338 


An Interrupted Honeymoon 


CHAPTER I 

THE WEDDING EVE 

T he old Haselton homestead in its pleasant 
setting of big square blossomy yard, had a 
delightfully festive and set-to-rights air this June 
afternoon. Joseph Haselton thought so as he 
looked critically over his domain. Then he 
decided that he could improve the trimming of 
the tall box borders between which the straight 
gravel path led from the gate to the front porch. 
He went around the house to the kitchen to get 
the pruning shears. 

The kitchen was spacious and low-ceiled, 
abounding in shelves, and cupboards, and well- 
scoured deal tables; and all manner of old-fash- 
ioned and new fashioned appliances for homely 
cheer and comfort. It was an enjoyable room. 
A two-year-old boy strapped into a high chair, 
crowed and gurgled gleefully at sight of his 
father. Mrs. Haselton stood at a table frosting 
cakes with practised hands; and she smiled 
cheerfully at her husband as he threw himself on 
a chair near her with a pretense of exhaustion. 

‘‘Won't I be glad when all this darned fuss is 
over! " he said. 


1 


2 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


She shook her pretty head at him in mock 
reproof and thorough understanding. “Joe, you 
shouldn’t talk like that. You know you don’t 
grudge Sally a bit of the trouble.” 

‘‘ Of course I don’t, bless her. But a man’s 
got to have his little grumble.” With an elaborate 
pretense of absent-mindedness, Joseph helped 
himself to a crisp cake. 

“ Now, Joe, let my cake alone. It’s for to- 
morrow.” His wife shook her head at him. 
She watched his enjoyment in satisfaction. “ How 
is it ? ” she asked anxiously. 

“ Bully,” he told her, as he swallowed the 
last mouthful. “ Where’s Sally ? ” 

‘‘ She’s coming now.” Mrs. Haselton nodded 
toward the door into the hall. They could hear 
quick light steps descending the stairs and in a 
moment Sarah Haselton joined her brother and 
sister. As she looked around the cosy old kitchen, 
such a characteristic part of the home where she 
had lived all her life, and which she was preparing 
now to leave, a play of uncertain emotion flitted 
over what was usually a very calm young counte- 
nance. She was very happy; life was beautiful 
and full of promise, yet to her own surprise, she 
felt tears not very far away. The merry baby 
beat a tattoo of welcome on the table with the 
biscuit cutter. Because feeling needed to find 
some expression, or perhaps to disguise it, his 
Aunt Sally pulled his curls playfully and pressed 
tickling kisses into his fat white neck. 


THE WEDDING EVE 


3 


‘‘Annie, dear, I hate to have you keep on 
working so hard. Do stop,” she admonished 
her sister-in-law tenderly. “Joe, I wish you’d 
make Annie go up stairs and rest. She ought 

“ Go along with you, Annie,” Mr. Haselton 
endorsed lazily. 

“ You can see what you’re coming to,” he told 
his sister. “ You’ll soon be drudging away in a 
kitchen of your own, eh I ” 

She shook her head gaily. “ No, I shan’t. I 
always did like house-keeping. I don’t think it’s 
drudgery at all.” 

Her brother was looking at the tall alert girl, 
with a realization new to him, of her womanly 
charm, her wholesome attractiveness. Until very 
recently she had been accepted simply as part of 
his daily portion, his sister Sally to be teased and 
scolded and loved as a matter of course. But 
to-morrow she would no longer be here. Until 
that moment he had not realized how much he 
was going to miss her. He forgot about the 
pruning shears. 

The air drifting in through the open window 
was charged with honey essence from the white 
grape-like clusters of the honey locust trees. The 
sweetness drifted across the senses of the three 
there in the pleasant old kitchen, interpenetrated 
with an emotion that was sweet too, tender, 
quivering, not unhappy, in spite of its wistful 
perception of change and parting. 


4 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

A subtle telegraphy sent messages from one to 
the other. 

“ Fm not ever going to forget how good you 
and Annie have been,’’ Sarah Haselton said, and 
choked a treacherous quiver in her voice with an 
uncertain laugh. Demonstration did not come 
easily to a girl who had inherited New England 
traditions of reserve and self-control. But some- 
thing in the warm good will enveloping her, the 
moved response of her brother’s eyes, shook her 
out of her habitual mood. Reticence for once 
loosened its clutch. Buoyantly she stepped across 
the room and laid an arm around her brother’s 
shoulders, and bent over and kissed his rough 
cheek with her soft fresh lips. 

Joseph pulled her down to a seat upon his 
knee, his arms close around her. “Why shouldn’t 
I be good to you, all the sister I have ? ” 

Mrs. Haselton watched them with a sympathetic 
quiver of the lips, a dew softening her sisterly eyes. 
Then Sarah sprang up. “I must go and dress. It’s 
almost time for William to be here.” The three 
shook themselves out of the clutch of emotion. 

“ Where are the pruning shears, Annie ? ” 
asked Joseph. On his way to the back door, he 
stopped at her side. “Here, give us a kiss, old 
lady,” he demanded. He took it from her 
willing lips, and went off whistling, with a happy 
sense of security in her. 

The children playing in the village streets 
glanced with interest at the Haselton house, at 


THE WEDDING EVE 


5 


Mr. Haselton clipping the box borders. “Miss 
Sally’s going to be married to-morrow,” they 
told each other. The knowledge seemed to invest 
the familiar place with delightful and dramatic 
mystery. All that it would be possible to see of 
the wedding from outside the white picket fence, 
the children meant to see. Manorton was not 
a place of many happenings. 

Joseph Haselton was still clipping when a 
sedate young man came driving along the quiet 
street in a buggy, a new buggy with a fine glitter 
on its black varnish. The glossy bay horse 
looked new, too, so shining were his sleek sides, 
so well curried his waving mane. The nickel 
rings on the harness glittered. There seemed to 
be a very cheerful understanding between the 
people at their front windows and the few passers- 
by on the street, with the young man in the new 
buggy. He sat very straight, enduring the smiles 
of greeting with determined stoicism; and kept 
quite busy touching his hat in response. He 
drove very slowly as he approached the Haselton 
house; and his keen gray eyes travelled recon- 
noiteringly to certain windows on the second 
floor. Then, disappointed of what they sought, 
surveyed approvingly the pretty, orderly place. 

The Haselton house, situated conspicuously 
in the heart of the village, opposite the hotel, had 
been a landmark in Manorton for a hundred and 
fifty years. It possessed all the cheerful serenity 
of well-preserved age in its fresh coat of white 


6 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


paint and trim green blinds; and then the be- 
trayals of its time-stained chimneys, the sagging 
lines of its foundations, and the hollows where 
rain water collected, worn by the feet of many 
generations in the broad stone steps. 

Joseph Haselton threw down his shears and 
stepped briskly out to the horse-block. “ Hello, 
William. Got here, have you ? Come on in.’' 

His bluff, hearty manner seemed to accentuate 
the extremely courteous reserve of the young man 
in the buggy. William Van Besten did not easily 
relax from a certain dignity of demeanor which 
usually held off familiarities on the part of his 
acquaintances. He shook his head at Joseph’s 
invitation. “ Not now, thank you, Joe. I’ll go 
over to the hotel first and leave my horse and get 
my room. Then I’ll be back. Everybody all 
right, I suppose ? ” Again his gray eyes sought 
those upper windows. 

“ Meaning Sally, of course,” Joseph said quiz- 
zically. “ Yes, she’s all right. Fine. But she’s 
been working herself almost to death over her 
clothes and I don’t know what all. You’d think she 
expected you to carry her off to a desert island 
where she’d never be able to get anything again.” 

William laughed happily, his eyes always 
returning to the upper windows. “ Well, I’ll be 
back shortly,” he said. 

When he had driven on, Mr. Haselton stepped 
close to the house and whistled. “ Hey, there, 
Sally! William’s come,” he called. 


THE WEDDING EVE 


7 


A laugh floated down to him. “ Don’t you 
suppose I know that, Joe, dear ? ” 

Joseph and his wife and William Van Besten 
were sitting together on the front porch when 
Sally joined them. “ Good evening, William,” 
she said sedately. 

As William rose to greet her, he forgot to answer, 
but Sally did not care, for she read in his brighten- 
ing eyes such emphatic approval of her appearance. 
Smiling more easily than his wont, he took her 
hand and held it tightly, until she drew it away 
with laughing reproof in her eyes, on her lips. 
Her clear hazel eyes smiled frankly back at him. 
She was entirely self-possessed. Mr. and Mrs. 
Joseph Haselton watched the two with indulgent 
sympathy. Somehow it seemed a little difficult 
to go on with the trivial chit-chat about the 
preparations for to-morrow. 

Mrs. Haselton jumped up. “ Come, Joe, let’s 
go in the house. I guess William and Sally can 
entertain each other just as well without us.” 
She and her husband drifted away considerately. 

“Joe, those two aren’t having half such a good 
time as we had,” Mrs. Haselton whispered. 

“ I bet they ain’t,” her husband answered. 
“ They couldn’t.” Delicious waves of recollec- 
tion surged over the young husband and wife as 
they stood arm in arm. “ But I guess they’re 
enjoying themselves all right. What makes you 
think they aren’t, old girl ^ ” 

“ Oh yes, they’re enjoying themselves,” she said. 


8 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


“ Only they’re so dreadfully practical. They act 
as if they’d been married ten years already.” 

“ Well, well, that’s their way,” Joe said. 

“ I like our way better.” 

“ You bet,” said Joe, with an emphatic kiss. 

William and Sally drew their chairs back farther 
into the fragrant obscurity afforded by the honey- 
suckle vine. The summer stars slowly multiplied 
overhead. Fireflies jewelled the old lilac and 
syringa bushes. Long rays from the electric 
light before the hotel filtered through the honey- 
suckle, and made it possible for each to see 
the other’s face. William leaned over and 
took Sally’s hand, that fluttered in his an instant, 
then lay there acquiescent. Delightful content 
enveloped them and yet a certain nervousness 
impelled her to speech. 

“Annie and I have had such a busy day,” she 
told him. “A thousand last things to do and 
people coming to interrupt the livelong time.” 

“ I suppose so.” William’s attention was 
wholly hers and yet he did not seem to be paying 
much heed to what she said. Conscious of an 
unusual flutter of spirit, Sarah leaned back in her 
chair, so close to his, and scrutinized the man 
whom she was to marry. Her judgment approved 
of him. William was tall and clean looking and 
sensible-looking; and she had known about him 
so long, even before she knew him, that there 
was no element of uncertainty as to her future 
with him. All her friends felt so delightfully 


THE WEDDING EVE 


9 


sure that she was doing well and that William 
was doing well too. She was very fond of William; 
and then he was so very fond of her. She told 
herself that she appreciated his good disposition, 
strong and kind and sensible. Yes, she certainly 
was going to be very happy. Nothing would 
have induced her to marry William if she did not 
care for him; but then certainly it added satis- 
faction that he should be a man of assured social 
position, and a man assured of a comfortable 
livelihood, the proprietor of the most important 
general store in the town of Kirton, a business 
inherited from his father. Sarah Haselton was 
distinctly pleased at the thought of becoming 
mistress of the fine brick mansion on the outskirts 
of Kirton, where William had lived all his twenty- 
nine years. 

William drew closer in the fragrant twilight. 
His arm was about her shoulders. Sarah Haselton 
delighted to feel herself a sensible, self-controlled 
person, a girl with no nonsense about her; but 
now a flutter of agitation wholly pleasant stirred 
her pulses. Well, a girl has a right to feel some- 
what excited on her wedding eve. The day had 
been a busy and exciting one, trying in many ways, 
this last day at home. After all, to have William 
here close beside her; to lean against him, her 
hand in his, was more restful than disturbing. 
She enjoyed this calm moment before the begin- 
ning of the new life. The remembrance was very 
present in her mind, that to-morrow night at this 


10 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


hour, she and William would be man and wife, 
alone together in the home that was to be hers 
all the rest of her days. 

“Annie’s tired out,” she roused herself to speak. 

“ She would insist upon the house being made spick 
and span from garret to cellar. William,” her voice | 
softened — “she and Joe have been awfully kind.” 

He drew her closer. “ So they have. They’ve 
been as kind as possible to both of us. Dear, I 
should think they would hate the sight of me. 
They’re going to miss you very much.” 

The weight of the unexpressed hung over the 
man and the girl left so considerately to them- 
selves, shut away in the fragrant darkness from 
any intrusion of other people’s eyes. The summer 
night thrilled with expectancy. Sally tapped her 
bright little black slipper nervously against the 
floor of the piazza and looked back at William 
less straightforwardly than usual. He was watch- 
ing her intently, leaning forward so that his good 
manly countenance was not far from her glowing, 
downcast face. 

“ Sally, I’m thinking how pleased my father 
and mother would have been.” His voice was 
a trifle husky. 

“ Yes, isn’t it nice that our families have 
always been such good friends ? ” 

Again that charged silence. 

“ You said the other day that we ought to have 
old-fashioned andirons in the sitting room fire- 
place. I bought some beauties for you yesterday. 


THE WEDDING EVE 


II 


Heavy old-fashioned brass affairs. I hope you 
will like them.’' 

“ Oh, yes, of course I shall,” she said, appre- 
ciatively. “ How good of you to remember that 
I wanted them. I do love handsome old-time 
things, and they suit your old house ever so much 
better than modern stuff does. They’re ever so 
much better made, too. But William, whatever 
possessed you to put that shiny oak set in your 
dining-room,” she reproached, lightly. “ Why, 
it swears with everything else in the whole house.” 

‘‘ Does it, dear ? ” William laughed comfortably 
at the reflection upon his taste. I paid a pretty 
good price for that set. I thought it was all right 
but you know more about such things than I 
do. Anyway, if you don’t like it, we can easily 
get rid of it. I want you to have things the way 
you like them.” 

She felt his attitude to be most satisfactory. 
William was dimly feeling that he and Sally were 
not altogether living up to the romantic require- 
ments of this particular evening. He picked up 
a little book lying on the table near him, and 
leaned forward so that the light fell upon its pages. 
Poetry. William was rather fond of poetry, with 
which he had beguiled many a lonely home even- 
ing. Poetry seemed the appropriate expression for 
the situation. L overs always read poetry. So Wil- 
liam had understood. He began to read aloud. 
Sally listened patiently for some time, then her 
restless hand stole over her head to the back of 


12 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


the chair. She stifled a tired little yawn. 

William glanced up in some dismay. Her 
eyes were brimming with mischievous amusement. 
“ Wouldn’t you really rather talk ? ” she asked. 
‘‘ The idea of your starting in to read poetry to 
me to-night. Why, William, we aren’t that 
kind!” 

A slow color crept up William’s cheeks as he 
obediently closed the volume. “ Perhaps we’re 
not, Sally.” He replaced the book upon the 
table and leaned back in his chair. He com- 
pressed his full strong lips, which gave him a 
resolute air. He had a little trick of doing that; 
and Sally liked it, yet occasionally she had secretly 
wondered just what the expression betokened. 
Would William be obstinate upon occasion ^ 
That would not matter. She had a will herself 
which she intended, in a perfectly good tempered 
and justifiable fashion, to exercise for his good 
and her own. Of course wives ought to defer to 
their husbands more or less, and she meant to 
do so. In fact she meant to be a most excellent 
and tactful wife. Of course she must expect 
William to have his little faults and crotchets. 
All men did. Was William annoyed because she 
had interrupted his reading ? She glanced at 
him in humorous inquiry. 

William’s blue-gray eyes looked back rather 
wistfully. “ We’re not a very sentimental couple, 
are we, Sally ? ” 

“ No, thank goodness, we’re not,” she answered. 


THE WEDDING EVE 


13 

heartily. ‘‘ Fd be ashamed to act like some 
engaged people Fve known.’’ 

The clock struck eleven, which is considered 
late in Manorton. 

Again Sally stifled a yawn. Her exhausted 
attitude was suggestive. 

“ Perhaps I ought to go now,” William said, 
reluctantly. “Are you very tired, Sally?” 

“ Yes, I am tired to-night,” she answered, 
frankly. “ You see, Fve been so busy all day.” 

“ You must get a good rest to-night.” Still 
he lingered, finding it very hard to go away, 
feeling somehow that there was a great deal to 
say if only he could find words — his hopes for 
their future, his gratitude to her for putting an 
end to his long loneliness, his tenderness for her, 
for the calm, blooming girl so serenely trusting 
her life to his keeping. But Sally’s calm manner 
did not invite expression of sentiment. She 
seemed to be waiting patiently for him to go. 
He gave himself a little shake and rose reluctantly. 
“ Can I see you in the morning, do you suppose ? ” 

“ Yes, for a little while, if you’ll come early, 
right after breakfast.” Sally’s breath quickened 
under his glance. She rose involuntarily, to hide 
her perturbation. The man caught her two 
hands and the pulsing in his veins seemed to 
course into hers. This was the most ardent 
moment their courtship had known. With a 
startled, arrested look, she watched, fascinated, 
an odd little mist gather and drift across William’s 


14 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

straightforward gray eyes. Her heart throbbed 
violently as he drew her closer, closer, as though 
feeling her will. He bent his head and kissed her 
on the lips. They had been engaged for six 
months, but until now William had still been 
diffident at kissing. With an agitated little laugh, 
half mockery, half defiance, Sally pulled herself 
away. 

‘‘ Now, William, it’s getting late. You mustn’t 
be foolish! Yes, you really must go now. Stop! 
William!” 

She stood listening while his steps died away in 
the direction of the hotel. She was genuinely 
tired, but it was impossible to go to bed just now. 
William’s kisses had strangely thrilled her. She 
paced swiftly up and down in the darkness. 
William was a dear fellow. She had never real- 
ized before how much she cared for him. Oh, 
she must be a good wife to him, make him happy. 
Her mind was a tangle of plans for the future, 
which she was too tired and excited to-night to 
unravel. She smiled tenderly to herself, picturing 
the discomfort of William’s queer man’s house- 
keeping. He had taken her all over his big 
untidy house; and she had quietly noted for 
future reform many more matters than she had 
mentioned to him. 

Presently her sister-in-law came to the front 
door, and knew from the silence that William 
must have gone. ‘‘ Sally, are you out here still } ” 
she asked. “If you don’t get to bed, you won’t 


THE WEDDING EVE 


15 


be fit to be seen to-morrow,’’ she warned tenderly, 
and came out on the veranda and put her arm 
around Sally. 

A great wave of love for her ,own people, her 
old home, swept over Sarah Haselton, as with 
moistened eyes, she kissed Annie and Joseph 
good-night and went upstairs. 


CHAPTER II 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 

“rriHERE isn’t any Miss Sally any more.” 

A The village children w^ho w^ere not cousins 
and therefore not invited to the Avedding, had 
hung about the Haselton place all the summer 
afternoon. They had watched the arrival of 
William Van Besten, and of the wedding guests; 
and would have dearly loved to see what was 
going on in the old-fashioned flower-decked 
parlors, to have witnessed the ceremony that was 
to transform familiar Miss Sally into somebody 
else. They had clung to the fence breathless 
with interest, the toes of their shabby shoes 
thrust between the pickets, their hands grasping 
the pointed tops, while a chorus drifted out from 
the house across the yard. When the children 
saw Dr. Lanson, the Presbyterian clergyman, and 
Mrs. Lanson approaching, they jumped down 
from the fence and gathered in a respectful 
group. The Doctor, an impressive personality 
in his black broadcloth and silk hat, nodded to 
them condescendingly. Mrs. Lanson, slight and 
16 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


17 


nerveworn and a bit dowdy in the black silk which 
had been her best dress all the years that she had 
lived in Manorton, smiled at them in amused 
sympathy as she passed, trying always to adapt 
her shorter steps to her husband's measured stride. 

“ They'll have it now the Minister's come," 
said Millie Thompson, eagerly. She lived next 
door to the Haseltons, and was old enough to feel 
half ashamed of her curiosity. She was a half- 
grown girl with bright, untidy hair and a chronic 
self-consciousness as to her shabby and outgrown 
clothes. To-day she had happily forgotten herself 
in her eagerness to see all that she possibly could 
of the alluring romance, that had come so near, 
only next door. Presently the wide front door 
was flung open. The hall seemed full of people, 
and then the children saw the bride laughing, 
protesting, thrusting out impetuous hands, break 
away from embraces and congratulations, and 
laughing nervously, run down the front path and 
jump into the waiting buggy. “Come, William, 
hurry up!" She called imperatively. The chil- 
dren watched the white streamer tied to the 
buggy wheel, — ^which Mr. Van Besten stoically 
endured for the moment, and would remove as 
soon as he was out of sight, — the shower of rice 
in which the buggy drove away. The little girls 
looked on wistfully, their little feminine natures 
strangely stirred by the spectacle, by the fairy tale 
allurement of a wedding. 

“ There isn't any Miss Sally any more." 


i8 AN INTERRUPTED HONETMOON 


“ Yes, there is, Millie. Yes, there is. I saw 
her.” Small Bobby Thompson tugged at his 
sister’s hand, “ Miss Sally isn’t dead. I saw her.” 

“ Of course she isn’t dead, you little silly,” his 
sister laughed at him. “ But she’s married. She 
isn’t Miss Sally any longer. She’s Mrs. Van 
Besten now.” 

But Bobby still was puzzled. 

The wedding guests gradually departed, those 
from a distance coming out first to seek their 
carriages under the hotel shed or along the hitching 
posts in front. Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Haselton 
were glad when the last village friend had told 
them what a pretty wedding it had been, and 
what a lovely bride Sally made, and what a 
satisfaction it must be to her brother and sister 
to know that she was happily married to a good 
substantial fellow like Mr. Van Besten. Annie 
Haselton gave a great sigh of relief as she shut 
the front door. “ Thank goodness, they’re all 
gone! Oh, Joe, I’m so tired! Come, sit down 
a minute and let’s talk it over.” 

Joseph Haselton threw himself beside her on 
the haircloth sofa and stretched out his long legs. 
‘‘ Phew, what a day’s work! Well, old woman, 
everything seemed to go off all right, eh ? ” 

“ Everybody seemed to think so,” his wife 
said, with deep satisfaction. She stretched out 
her tired arms as she leaned against him. Both 
found the moment good. 

“What a looking house!” Mrs. Haselton 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


19 


glanced about at her disordered furniture, at the 
roses and syringas already beginning to droop in 
their vases, at the litter of pink and white and 
crimson petals drifting down upon the carpet. 
She leaned back against her husband with a 
contented sigh. “ I don’t care. I shan’t touch a 
thing until to-morrow.” 

Little Joe, crooning happily to himself, prowled 
around the room, usually a forbidden domain to 
him, investigating its appointments with interest. 

“You ought to be in bed, you rascal!” His 
father lifted him to his knee and tickled his soft 
neck, and the baby shouted with merriment. 
Father and mother were pleasantly weary, enjoying 
rest with a happy consciousness of an affectionate 
duty well performed. The home atmosphere 
was full of peace. 

Little Joe sat facing the front windows. Sud- 
denly he stopped his play. “ There’s Aunt 
Sally,” he said. 

His father laughed, thinking it baby mischief. 
“ No she isn’t, you rogue, you.” 

But little Joe pointed persistently. “Aunt 
Sally’s cornin’.” 

“ I wonder who he sees,” his mother said, 
turning idly to follow the gesture of the little hand. 
Then her expression changed. She jumped up, 
startled. “ Why, it is, Joe! It certainly is Sally!” 
She turned back to him with a look of bewilderment. 

Her husband set the child down and followed 
her to the window. Little Joe was not mistaken. 


20 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


The bride who had driven gaily away from their 
door a few hours earlier, was walking toward it 
now, stepping briskly along just outside the white 
picket fence. Mrs. Allan, a neighbor, dropped 
her fancywork and leaned out of her window 
and gazed in astonishment. Mr. Harlan Morgan 
and Mr. Allen Mackenzie, the gentlemanly black 
sheep of Manorton, just then on their way to 
supper at the hotel, paused on the steps at sight 
of Sally. They held aloof from all social events, 
but even they knew that she had been married 
that afternoon. The group of loungers on the 
hotel piazza set their tilted chairs down on all 
fours in order to stare from a firmer equilibrium. 
Sarah Van Besten paid no attention to wondering 
eyes, as looking straight before her, holding her 
head very erect, she came on briskly and unlatched 
the front gate. Her quick feet crunched the rice 
still lying thick upon the path. 

Annie and Joseph hurried out into the hall. 
As the door opened, Annie laid hold upon Sarah 
and drew her into the house. “ Oh, Sally, what 
has happened ? ’’ 

“ Where’s William .? ” asked Joseph. 

Sally looked from one to the other, her face 
stoicaly wan and rigid. Her lips were so dry 
that it was hard for her to speak. 

“ Have you had an accident ^ Where’s Wil- 
liam ? ” Joseph asked again. A blight of con- 
sternation had fallen upon both him and Annie 
at Sally’s aspect. 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


21 


Sally answered with a wretched smile. Tears 
could not have conveyed a sense of tragedy more 
instantly than that strained and mirthless smile. 
“ William has gone on home. I made him let 
me out. He didn’t want to. I made him.” 

“ But why, why ? ” demanded Joseph, in an 
appealing sort of way. 

In an effort to indicate the situation without 
words, Sally’s tense fingers unpinned and took 
off her pretty new hat. Joe Haselton saw how 
the fingers trembled. The wan excitement in 
his sister’s face went to his heart. He went over 
to her and put his arms around her. “ Poor 
girl! You’re trembling so you can hardly stand. 
Now, what’s all this mess about ? I don’t under- 
stand. Tell brother, dear.” 

In response to his tenderness, she clung to him 
for a moment, feeling as she had used to feel 
when she was a little girl and he was her big 
protecting brother who would allow no one to 
bully her but himself. “ What is it ? ” he asked, 
and his tone was affectionately peremptory. 

Sally drew herself out of his arms. “ I can’t 
tell you, Joe. Please let me go. I can’t talk 
about it.” 

Without a look at him or Annie, leaving brother 
and sister staring helplessly, incredulously, after 
her, she went swiftly from the room. They heard 
her bed-room door close quietly behind her, the 
key turn in its lock. Evidently Sally wished to 
be let alone. The husband and wife, dumb with 


22 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


surprise, looked at each other. All the serenity 
of their contented fatigue had been dispelled. 

“ Well, of all the fool actions!’’ Joseph Haselton 
exclaimed at last. Frowning, he walked excitedly 
about the room. 

“ What can it mean ? ” asked his wife, pale 
with the surprise. 

“ I can’t understand it at all. Of all the un- 
likely things!” Joseph thrust his hands impa- 
tiently into his pockets. “ Out of the way, 
youngster.” He pushed the wondering baby 
gently out of his course and fumed up and down. 
His wife, watching his puzzled frown, saw it 
pierced as by a dire ray of understanding. 

“ What, Joe .? ” she questioned eagerly. 

Joseph stopped and looked down upon her, his 
teeth upon his lip, deliberating. Her eyes still 
questioned. 

“ Say, Annie, do you suppose he’s told her 
anything ? ” Joseph lowered his voice as though 
to guard against even little Joe’s unwitting ears. 

“ What } Told her what ? ” Annie whispered 
back. 

They looked blankly at each other, then Annie 
spoke with energy. “ I can’t believe William 
Van Besten’s ever been that kind of a man!” 

“ I’m not saying that story was true,” Joe 
hastened to say. “ I tell you I’ve never believed 
it.” Whatever the truth, he and Annie felt 
unwillingly obliged to wait still longer. Sally 
paid no attention to their questioning glances. 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


23 


their expectant attitude. Except for meals, she 
spent most of the time in her own room. If, when 
she was downstairs, the doorbell rang, or a footstep 
sounded on the walk outside the kitchen door, she 
fled away upstairs. Whenever wheels were heard 
on the village street, Mrs. Haselton could hear 
Sally’s steps toward the window. 

“ She’s expecting him,” she told Joe. “ I 
guess it’s going to come right.” 

“ Why, it’s bound to come right if we’re all 
patient. Such a good fellow as William and a 
girl like Sally.” 

But William Van Besten did not come the first 
day or the second. He did not come at all. Sally 
held herself proudly before her family and sought 
no sympathy. But her flesh seemed to drop 
away from her visibly; and the strained expecta- 
tion in her face, in spite of her determined self- 
control, was a revelation. 

Those days of readjustment were uneasy and 
irksome to the Haselton household. 

‘‘ Are you going to church, Sally ? ” Mrs. 
Haselton asked almost timidly when Sunday came. 

Sally shrugged a shoulder defiantly. “ Yes, I 
am,” she said. “ I won’t pretend I wouldn’t 
rather stay home, but people have got to stare at 
me some time, I suppose, and the sooner they get 
used to seeing me around the better.” Annie 
sighed. She looked wishful of confidence, but 
Sally said no more. 

When Sally dressed for church, some sentiment 


24 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


kept her from decking herself in one of the new 
pretty gowns of her wedding equipment. Instead, 
she wore a gown that the Presbyterian congre- 
gation had seen many times. When she walked 
up the aisle and took her usual seat, many of her 
acquaintances were inclined to wonder if they 
had dreamed her in her bridal white, had dreamed 
her cheerful wedding and her gay departure for 
her new home. But she was paler than usual; 
and to feel herself a focus for wondering glances, 
gave her a rigid look of endurance. 

“ How are you ever going to explain to the 
neighbors ? ’’ Mrs. Haselton had ventured to ask. 

“ Pm not going to explain,’’ Sally answered, 
defiantly. “ What business is it of theirs. I’d 
like to know ? ” 

‘‘ Of course it isn’t, dear, but still — people 
will ask questions, you know.” Mrs. Haselton’s 
gentle young countenance was sorely perplexed. 
“ What do you want me to tell people ^ ” she 
asked, almost pleadingly. 

“ Tell them the truth,” Sally said, sharply. 
“ Tell them you know nothing whatever about it. 
I don’t believe they’ll ask me many questions,” 
she said, bitterly. Nor did they. 

Mrs. Allan made the attempt in the vestibule 
after service. “ Why, Sally, my dear, you cer- 
tainly have surprised folks.” Thus she addressed 
her. “ What does it all mean ? ” 

Sally’s head went back in rigid erectness, and 
she opposed stony silence to the question. The 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 25 

sedate church-goers on their way out had keen 
eyes and ears for the little encounter. 

‘‘Aren’t you going to answer me.?” asked 
Mrs. Allan. 

Sally looked back at her with warning sparks 
in her defiant hazel eyes. “ No, ma’am, I’m not.” 

Mrs. Allan wavered and weakened almost to 
tears in her surprise and bafflement. “ Well, 
upon my word!” she said, weakly. “I didn’t 
expect you to meet me like this. As if I would 
have any motive but kind feeling for you. An 
old friend of your mother’s like me, that’s known 
you all your life.” Her somber old eyes looked 
angrily at the tall, defiant girl. 

“ I think my old friends ought to be kind enough 
not to question me on such a trying subject,” 
Sally said, with dignity, and passed on. Mrs. 
Allan perceived restrained smiles directed at her 
own discomfiture, which wounded her. 

When Sally had not spoken out at the end of a 
week, Joseph Haselton drove to Kirton. Sally 
looked perturbed as she watched his preparations 
for the trip. Finally she went close to him. 
“ See here, Joe, I know you’re going up to see 
William. I wish you wouldn’t,” she said earnestly. 
“ It won’t do any good. Please let William alone.” 
He could see that she found it hard to break her 
resolution of reserve. 

Joseph turned to her with an approach to 
anger. 

‘‘ Of course I’m going to see William, unless you’ll 


26 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


act like a sensible woman and tell us what’s the 
matter. The fellow’s got to answer to me for 
deserting you. He’s got to tell me why you two 
are acting like a couple of fools.” He regarded 
her unkindly, his patience at an end. 

“ He didn’t desert me,” Sally cried. “ I made 
him let me out of the buggy. He couldn’t help it. 
Oh, I wish you wouldn’t interfere!” she cried, in 
exasperation. “ It’s nobody’s business but his 
and mine. I wish you’d let William alone!” 

Joseph did not vouchsafe to answer. He 
stalked grimly out of the door, climbed into his 
wagon, and drove off. 

The first thing he did when he reached Kirton 
was to go to Van Besten’s store. 

A cheerful effect of prosperity stamped the 
broad entrance and handsome plate glass windows 
of the biggest store in Kirton. All along Joseph 
Haselton’s countryside, as well as up in Kirton, 
Van Besten’s enjoyed a reputation for good and 
reliable goods. Joseph’s family had bought there 
as long as he could remember. 

William Van Besten was giving directions to a 
salesman when Joseph Haselton entered. In his 
working day aspect he looked shrewd, alert, 
positive. His somewhat deliberate voice, entirely 
courteous, had yet the positive ring of calm 
authority. As he saw Joe, his eyes, his whole 
attitude, grew expectant for a fleeting instant. 
‘‘ Good morning, Joe,” he greeted him. 

Joe, slightly flurried, ignored the salutation. 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 27 

“ See here, William, can I have a few words 
with you in private ? he asked. 

“ Certainly. Come back to my office,” Wil- 
liam said briefly, a slight chill creeping into his 
tone at Joseph’s manner. 

He led the way to a small square office parti- 
tioned off* at the rear. He closed the door. 
“ Won’t you sit down What is it ? ” 

In William’s familiar presence, Joseph clutched 
after his wrath in vain. It evaporated and left 
him only expostulatory. 

“ William, I’ve come to find out what’s wrong 
between you and Sally.” He paused and looked 
inquiringly at William, but William said nothing. 
“ How could you let her come streaking home alone 
as you did ? ” He tried to speak firmly, authori- 
tatively, as one deeply wronged, but he sounded 
only mildly reproachful. 

William’s expression was severely impenetrable. 
‘‘ Do you think I wanted her to do that ” he asked. 

“ I know you didn’t want her to. In fact, she 
says so,” Joseph hastened to concede. “ But 
what I want to know is what the trouble is about.” 

William looked back at him impenetrably. 
“ Why don’t you ask your sister to tell you ? ” 

Joseph’s feet tapped the floor impatiently. 
“ We’ve tried to, Annie and I. All Sally will say 
is that it is nobody’s business, but yours and 
hers.” 

“ She thinks so, does she ^ I agree with her,” 
William said composedly and his voice sounded 


28 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


hard. William’s fashion of pressing his firm 
lips together convinced the other that argument 
would be futile. 

“ You’re as stubborn as mules, the pair of you,” 
Joseph complained. “ I’d like to know what you 
mean — marrying a girl like Sally and then desert- 
ing her on her wedding day.” 

At that, William roused to animation. An 
angry light shone in his gray eyes. “ You can’t 
say that. I never deserted Sally. I tried to have 
her go home with me, but she would have her 
own way. You would not have had me coerce 
her, I suppose.” 

“ I don’t know but I would,” Joe said. “ It’s 
been mighty unpleasant for Annie and me,” he 
complained. 

William spoke up resolutely. “ I told her then, 
and I say again to you now, that she must come 
to me of her own free will, or else abide by her 
own decision.” 

Joseph watched him curiously. “ You’re pretty 
hot against her, aren’t you } Well, I don’t pretend 
to understand it all or who’s to blame. Good 
Lord, man, she’s your wife, isn’t she ^ Sally’s a 
spirited girl, quick-tempered may be, but I’ve 
always said she’d make a mighty good wife.” 
His puzzled eyes studied William Van Besten, the 
clean, manly look of the fellow, the stubborn 
resolve in the gray eyes, the strong lips. “ See 
here, William, you’re the good fellow I’ve always 
thought. I can’t be mistaken in you,” he cried 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 


29 


impulsively. ‘‘ Come along down home with me 
now, and have a talk with Sally. That’s the only 
way you’ll ever get this straightened out.” 

But William shook his head decidedly. “ No, 
I can’t do that, Joe. That is, not unless she sends 
for me. Any time that she does that, I will go 
at once.” 

“ It’s too much for me,” Joseph commented 
again, after a puzzled pause. “ Well, I don’t 
suppose I’ve gained anything by coming, but I 
had to come. I’m bound to do what I can for 
Sally, even if she does resent it. I’ll go along now.” 

“ Wait a minute.” William had turned toward 
his big desk as though to screen his face. When he 
swung his revolving chair around again his voice 
had changed, sounded slightly embarassed. “ See 
here, Joe, there’s one other matter. Of course, 
in the eyes of the law, Sally is my wife. I recog- 
nize that, recognize it, I wish to, and of course I 
wish to provide for her. You and I had better 
arrange the money matters between us, I think.” 

“ I guess Sally’ll have something to say about 
that,” Sally’s brother commented. 

“ I desire to settle a suitable allowance upon 
her,” William said, steadily; “and I hope you 
will persuade her that her proper course is to make 
no difficulty about accepting it.” There was 
another pause. William spoke again. “ I should 
like to have you tell your sister that when she’s 
ready to fulfil her part of our contract, I stand 
ready to fulfil my part. Tell her I still consider 


30 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


my house her proper home, and that it is always 
waiting for her if at any time she changes her 
mind and is willing to come to \tP 

‘‘ That’s all you want me to tell her ? ” 

“ That’s all.” 

A cunning expression lit Joseph’s eyes. “ You 
will have to deliver your own messages, William. 
I can’t act for you — not in the dark.” 

He followed these comments with a shrewd 
glance, but William remained cold and silent. 

When Joseph returned to Manorton he reported 
the interview faithfully to Sally. “ I told you it 
wouldn’t do any good to go to him. Why couldn’t 
you listen to me ? ” she reproached, her face 
flushing with hurt pride. “ I wish you hadn’t 
gone. Do you suppose I’d let him make me an 
allowance ? ” she demanded, indignantly. “ I 
wouldn’t take his money if I were perishing!” 
Her voice quavered. 

“ You don’t need to. If that’s the way you feel 
about it, I wouldn’t,” her brother said. 

“ I mean to take care of myself,” Sarah Van 
Besten declared. 

Of course people talked. The Manorton people 
talked and the Kirton people talked. As time 
went on the trouble that separated William Van 
Besten and Sally, his wife, became a perennial 
topic of conversation, always cropping up when- 
ever everything else failed. 

For, in spite of all cheerful prophesies to the 
contrary, the situation lasted. 


AN UNEXPECTED RETURN 31 


Sarah Van Besten never forgot the first note that 
she wrote after her marriage. The first time 
that she had occasion to sign her new name, rhe 
swift pen suddenly paused; then her fingers 
tightened on it, and she wrote the name boldly, 
but with a sinking at her heart. She remembered 
how she had once looked forward to doing this 
with pride and pleasure, but now the little act 
filled her with humiliation. She never drooped 
or made appeal for pity before the eyes of her 
world, and she showed herself as brightly self- 
sufficient as before her marriage; bat now, shut 
in her lonely room with the door locked she 
suddenly laid her face down upon the litter of 
writing materials, her face wet with stinging 
tears of shame. 

“ William, how can you be so hard and cruel ^ ” 
she whispered, pitifully. “ You said you cared 
for me. Wasn’t I just as tired and nervous as I 
could be that day ? Was I unreasonable ? What 
if I was unreasonable f I thought you cared for 
me. You don’t even care enough to try again.” 


CHAPTER III 


SALLY FINDS SHOPPING DIFFICULT 

J OSEPH HASELTON had spent a busy morn- 
ing in his paper mill on the bank of the Manor 
Creek. Everybody in Manorton Avas familiar 
with the big rustling loads of rye straw which the 
neighboring farmers brought to the Haselton mill 
to be converted into brown wrapping paper. 
When twelve o’clock struck, Mr. Haselton left 
the mill and walked home with a well-earned 
appetite. His wife was setting the dinner table, 
and the jingle of knives and forks, the clink of 
dishes, was music to his ears as he threw himself 
on the lounge under the window. 

“ Where’s Sally ? ” he asked, cautiously. 

“ Gone to the postoffice,” his wife told him. 
Joseph drew a breath of relief, as one who could 
now speak out. “ Say, Annie, I’m getting sick 
and tired of this,” he said, in a less repressed way. 
“ She’s no business to be so non-committal. 
We’ve a right to know.” His usually amiable 
face grew frowning and perplexed. “ Folks keep 
on sort of questioning or beating around the 
32 


SHOPPING DIFFICULT 


33 


subject, and I feel like a fool trying to wriggle 
out of itP 

“ It is awfully trying,” his wife said, sympa- 
thetically. 

Joseph sat up and thumped the sofa cushions. 
“ I can tell you one thing, Tm not going to put up 
with it much longer. Some of these days I shall 
speak out very plainly to Sally.” 

“Hush. Here she comes,” his wife warned quickly. 

When Sally entered the room, Joseph was ex- 
plaining the necessity of sharpening the lawn 
mower. She handed him a letter and paper and 
went away again. Mrs. Haselton waited until she 
must be out of hearing, and then resumed the 
tantalizing, never exhausted subject. 

“ I don^t think she ought to keep it secret from 
you and me.” Annie paused in her task of cutting 
the bread, the broad-bladed knife suspended. 
She looked intense. “Joe, that story about 
William. Don’t you suppose there’s somebody 
who could tell you whether its true or not ? Why 
don’t you find out ? ” 

“ Even if I could, what good would it do ? ” he 
answered. “ We don’t know that it had anything 
to do with this.” 

“ What else could make Sally act so .? ” she 
urged. A shadow fell through the window and 
she glanced out and saw Sally sewing on the porch. 
“ Gracious!” she exclaimed, in a startled whisper. 
“ I didn’t know she was out there. Do you sup- 
pose she could hear ? ” 


34 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Somehow, her friends could not have told 
exactly how, Sarah Van Besten made it impossible 
to allude in her presence to the difficulty between 
herself and William Van Besten. Several times 
when she was not with them, her brother and 
sister-in-law boldly resolved to demand her confi- 
dence, but they never did. The most daring 
among her acquaintances made tentative advances 
toward the subject, then retreated from it in dis- 
comfiture. The hedge of reserve behind which 
she entrenched herself was impenetrable. 

“ It’s wonderful how she keeps on for all the 
world as though nothing had happened,” said 
old Mrs. Allan, who never forgot or forgave the 
snubbing that Sally had administered in the 
church vestibule. “All I’ve got to say is, no girl 
with much heart could act as she does. I’ve 
always thought Sally Haselton was a selfish, 
cold-natured kind of girl.” For Mrs. Allan, in 
her baffled curiosity, had failed to interpret aright 
the hurt self-love, the deeper pain, that throbbed 
in Sally’s voice that June Sunday. 

This later day, when matters seemed to have 
shaken themselves into something like a stable 
groove, Sally gave her friends another shock. 
Joseph Haselton, returning from his day’s work, 
found his wife and his sister in the sitting-room 
with signs of storm upon their faces. 

“ Hello, girls, what’s wrong ? ” he asked. 

His wife appealed to him. “Joe, what do you 
think Sally wants to do now? She says she’s 


SHOPPING DIFFICULT 


35 

going to take in sewing. She’s going to turn 
dressmaker.” 

“ Not much. She isn’t.” Mr. Haselton looked 
from one agitated face to the other, not greatly 
troubled himself. He felt that here was occasion 
for the application of a little masculine sense and 
discretion. “ I’ve got something to say about 
that.” He sat down, judicially, in the biggest 
armchair in the room. “ Don’t be foolish, Sally.” 

“ It’s not foolishness. I am going to, Joe. 
I’ve made up my mind.” Sally was nervously 
decided. 

“ Then you may as well unmake it straight olF,” 
he told her, bluffly. “ See here, Sally, there isn’t 
the slightest need for you to do anything of the 
kind.” 

‘‘ I know. You’re very kind, Joe. You and 
Annie.” Sally regarded him gratefully. “ But 
I’d rather take care of myself Don’t you see ? 
I’d rather. I’d rather.” Her voice was ner- 
vously sharp. 

“ But I’d rather you didn’t. Do you suppose I 
want folks to think that I’m too mean to take 
care of my own sister? Have I ever grudged 
you your keep ? ” Joe tried to speak jocularly, 
to make light of the matter as a girlish whim. 

Sally refused to treat it as a jest. “ I’m per- 
fectly well able to take care of myself, and there 
isn’t any reason why I shouldn’t. I’d ever so 
much rather.” She clenched her nervous hands 
in an impulse of desperation. “ Oh, Joe; please 


36 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

don’t oppose me. Don’t you see I’ve got to have 
something to do ? ” Uneasy sense that she was 
suffering stirred her brother’s consciousness. He 
weakened. “ There’s plenty for you to do right 
here,” he grumbled. “ Help Annie.” 

“ That isn’t enough. No, no, you and Annie 
must let me have my own way in this. People 
shall understand that it isn’t your fault. I hate 
to have you feel so about it, but you mustn’t try 
to hinder me. I’m going to do it, even if I have 
to go somewhere else to live. I can do that if you 
and Annie’d rather have me.” She spoke defiantly. 

“ That’s nonsense, of course,” Joseph said, 
roughly. “ This is your home. Have your own 
way if you must. I don’t like it and Annie don’t 
like it, but you don’t care anything about our 
wishes.” 

“ Yes, I do. Please don’t say that, Joe;” Sally 
entreated. 

Miss Sally Haselton had long made her own 
pretty dresses. Her friends had often told her 
admiringly that she was as skillful as any pro- 
fessional dressmaker. Many who lived in isolated 
Manorton were glad enough to employ her skill. 
She had but to make known her willingness for 
custom and it poured in upon the new dressmaker. 
Although Joseph and Annie kept up a certain 
pretence of disapproval, she soon felt them 
growing reconciled to her success. All bitterness 
gradually died out of the situation. One subject 
lay locked and barred away even from allusion 


SHOPPING DIFFICULT 


37 


between Mr. and Mrs. Haselton and their sister; 
but the fact was finally understood, and peace 
reigned again in the household. A superficial 
observer might have decided that Mrs. Van 
Besten’s busy life went along as serenely as though 
she and William had never courted and wed. 

Sally sat sewing in her big front chamber. As 
she worked, she felt mildly entertained by the 
comings and goings on the village street. She 
heard the Thompson’s gate slam and saw Millie 
Thompson rushing off somewhere. Then she 
saw two of her customers coming along the grass- 
bordered, unpaved sidewalk. They were con- 
versing earnestly, and from their glances toward 
the Haselton house, Mrs. Van Besten felt con- 
vinced that they were discussing her affairs. A 
bitter smile curved Sally’s firm red lips. She 
drew her chair back from observation. 

The ladies arrived. Mrs. Van Besten, while 
courteous, confined her attention strictly to the 
business in hand. When the ladies tried to draw 
her into their chat of neighborhood happenings, 
she refused to overstep the professional relation. 
“ You haven’t told me yet how you want your 
dress made. What about the trimming.? Will 
you get it or shall I .? If you like I’ll see what I 
can find for you in Kirton.” 

Mrs. Wynne hesitated. “ I don’t know. Do 
you suppose I can get anything good enough in 
Kirton?” The city visitor’s tone stamped hope- 
less mediocrity upon all Kirton shops. 


38 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“ There’s Van Besten’s,” suggested Mrs. Brown- 
son. “ There’s usually a pretty good assortment 
at Van Besten’s.” She gave Sally an inquisitive look. 

William’s wife bore the look unflinchingly. 
“ Now if you’ll please turn around slowly so that 
I can see how your skirt hangs,” she requested 
Mrs. Wynne. 

Mrs. Wynne revolved stiffly. “ Then if you’d 
just as soon, you might look,” she said, evidently 
still doubtful of Van Besten’s possibilities. 

Mrs. Van Besten was softly adjusting the hem 
of the checked silk skirt. She drew back and 
surveyed her handiwork, her head on one side, 
her eyes absorbed and critical. “ Van Besten’s 
is generally considered the best department store 
between Albany and New York,” she informed 
Mrs. Wynne briefly, in the calm, impersonal 
manner of one impelled by abstract justice to 
enlighten the ignorant. 

Mrs. Wynne and Mrs. Brownson went away, 
and before they were fairly out of the gate, resumed 
the topic they had left there. 

“ Don’t you think she’s nice ? ” Mrs. Brownson 
claimed mead of praise for her friend and dress- 
maker. “ Sally’s such a smart, capable girl. 
Of course, we Manorton folks think she must 
have found out something dreadful to make her 
leave him like that right after the wedding. Why, 
the company had hardly got away from the wed- 
ding reception before she came walking home 
^gain.” 


SHOPPING DIFFICULT 


39 


Mrs. Wynne nodded solemnly. “ It must have 
been something awful,” she agreed. “ Probably 
he made her a confession of something in his 
past life that he ought to have let her know before 
he married her.” 

“ Of course, living all alone up there in that 
big house, with plenty of money, left to his own 
devices, a young man like that, there’s no telling — ” 

“ Of course not,” Mrs. Wynne agreed em- 
phatically. 

“ I never heard a thing against him until after 
this happened,” Mrs. Brownson admitted; ‘‘but 
my husband says there was a story about him 
when he was younger, oh, several years ago, a 
horrid story.” She lowered her voice. 

Mrs. Wynne listened and commented. “Any- 
way, as long as she didn’t know anything about 
it before she was married, I think she ought to 
have made the best of her bargain. I don’t think 
she had any right to back out of it then. People 
have no business to disregard appearances. It 
was dreadfully bad taste to act as she did.” 

In quest of Mrs. Wynne’s trimming and other 
matters, Sally drove up to Kirton with Perry 
Herter, the Manorton mail-carrier. The glint 
of curiosity in his faded blue eyes made her wrap 
herself closer in her chosen reticence. 

“ Nice mornin’. Miss Sally,” he addressed her 
affably. Then he smiled appreciatively at his 
own mistake. “ Mis’ Van Besten, I should say,” 
he amended. 


40 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“ Yes, it is a nice day,’’ Sally answered primly. 

“ Yer kin hardly blame folks fer gettin’ mixed 
up what ter call yer,” Perry commented with his 
accustomed frankness. “ I declare, you did give 
us Manorton folks quite a surprise.” 

Sitting alone on the wide second seat, Mrs. 
Van Besten quivered with distaste of the topic. 

“ I see William Van Besten on the street no 
longer ago’n yesterday,” Perry continued, turning 
around from the front seat to look at her. 

Mrs. Van Besten did not answer. 

“ Say, did yer know he’d been made chairman 
oi the Executive Committee ” Perry asked. 
“ That’s the committee was appointed th’ other 
night ter the town meetin’, yer know. It’s fer 
the big new buildin’ — ^the what yer call it ? The 
civil building.” 

“ The new Civic Building,” Sally suggested. 

“ That’s it. The Civic Building. It’s goin’ 
ter be mighty fine they’re tellin’. There’s been 
a lot er talk in Kirton about who was to be chair- 
man er the committee. William Van Besten, he 
got it. They say he warn’t none too anxious 
for the job, neither, but they wouldn’t take “ no ” 
from him. There was a hull lot er pow-wowin’ 
’bout how he was one er the leadin’ citizens er 
Kirton, representative young business man an’ 
all like that, yer know. Well, nobody can’t deny 
but what William Van Besten’s got the biggest 
store in Kirton.” Old Perry glanced back at 
her again with some pity. “ Yes, William Van 


SHOPPING DIFFICULT 


41 


Besten’s real well-to-do. Pity you’n him couldn’t 
a got along together,” he commented, reflectively. 

Mrs. Van Besten felt stung finally to self- 
assertion. “ That is a subject which I don’t care 
to discuss with anyone, Mr. Herter,” she said, 
emphatically, sitting erect in an assertion of dignity 
quite lost upon Perry. 

“Just as you say,” he agreed, affably. “ ’Taint 
anybody’s business but yourn and hisn. That’s 
what I always say.” Refusing to accept rebuffs, 
he continued his cheerful sociability. Sally was 
glad to get away from him when finally he set her 
down on Kirton’s Main Street. 

“ She’s a terrible close-mouthed woman,” he 
muttered discontentedly, as he drove on. 

Sally drew her list of commissions from her 
shopping bag and studied it as she walked along. 
There were three dry goods shops in Kirton. Of 
course she could not go to Van Besten’s. She had 
decided that matter before leaving home. Of 
course she could never enter William’s store again. 

That was a morning of petty aggravations. 
Sally sought in vain for what she wanted at the 
lesser shops. The salesmen had never heard of 
the particularly light and pleasant lining material 
for which she asked. She had always been able 
to find it at Van Besten’s. She examined the 
stock of trimmings shown her with discontent. 
Mrs. Wynne would never be satisfied with any of 
these. “ Can’t you show me something better 
than these ” she asked, severely. 


42 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


“Fm afraid not, ma’am,” the clerk answered. 
“ We never keep much of an assortment of 
trimmings. But I guess you can find what you 
want at Van Besten’s.” 

“ Thank you,” said Sally, curtly. 

She left the second shop in a state of exaspera- 
tion. “ I can’t see why they leave William to 
do all the business in this town,” she thought, 
crossly. “ Why can’t the others have a little 
business enterprise. What do they think they’re 
keeping shop for, I wonder ? ” Her step quite 
lost its usual alert springiness as she loitered 
along considering what to do. It certainly was 
very unpleasant to feel condemned to second 
rate shops all the rest of one’s days. A sense of 
injury swelled in Sally’s heart and something very 
like a renewal of wrath against William. The 
Kirton acquaintances to whom she bowed in a 
preoccupied way, thought Sally Van Besten was 
looking very well. Was it the possibility of en»- 
countering William in the Kirton ways that had 
influenced her to make so careful a toilet that 
morning ? A certain tidy trimness was charac- 
teristic of Sally; but nothing could have been 
more becoming than the crisp, freshly laundered 
blue summer gown, and the shady black hat. 
“ How nice you look,” Annie had commented. 
“ I hope you won’t get caught in a shower and 
spoil your best hat.” 

As she drew near the big corner show window 
of Van Besten’s, Sally quickened her pace and 


SHOPPING DIFFICULT 


trod the pavement more vigorously. “Why 
shouldn’t I buy things there just the same as I 
would anywhere else ? ” she demanded of herself, 
fighting down her instinct against going. “ It’s 
just foolishness to feel that I’ve always got to 
keep away from a public place like a great big 
store.” But she wavered at Van Besten’s wide 
open door. Her practical sense took swift note 
of the future, the endless needs of customers 
which, as she had just demonstrated, only Van 
Besten’s, of Kirton shops, could supply. “ It’s 
ever so much more sensible to go there straight- 
forwardly than it is to keep away.” Sally always 
prided herself upon good sense. “ It’s going to 
be so dreadfully inconvenient always to keep away. 
It isn’t likely I’ll see him anyway. He hardly 
ever does wait on people.” 

Sally entered the shop. A curious distaste for 
herself seized her as she did so. She saw William 
almost immediately, and she summoned all her 
pride, all her will, not to be submerged in con- 
fusion. 

William Van Besten saw his wife as she per- 
ceived him. His astonishment expressed itself 
in a moment’s immobility. Then he came for- 
ward. 

“ Sally ! ” 

Sally perceived an expectancy which it became 
her immediate business to quench. ‘‘Good morn- 
ing, William,” she said, primly. “ Have you 
any lustrine ? ” 


44 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“Any what?” asked William, still looking 
eagerly, hopefully at her. 

“ Lustrine,” Sally repeated in a business-like 
manner. “ Dress lining,” she explained toler- 
antly. 

“ I don’t know,” William answered, in a bewil- 
dered way quite at variance with his usual manner. 
His blue-gray eyes questioned her. Sally glanced 
into them and then hurriedly away. She fumbled 
with her shopping bag in an embarassed way and 
pulled out her list. “ Fve quite a lot of things 
to buy.” Scarcely knowing what she did, she 
held out the list. 

William accepted it mechanically and glanced 
at it. “ Four dozen button moulds,” he read 
aloud, but went no further. His long, firm 
fingers took to folding up the bit of paper, match- 
ing the edges meticulously while still he looked 
at Sally. 

Sally’s head throbbed with a conflict of impulses. 
She was uneasily conscious that curious eyes were 
probably watching her and William. It seemed 
highly important to demonstrate that she was 
here purely for business reasons. “ I had to 
come up to get a lot of things for my customers,” 
she explained. He felt her voice, her manner, 
subtly repellent. 

William straightened his broad shoulders. His 
expression changed as he handed back her list. 
“ You want linings, I believe. Step this way, 
please.” He was the merchant now, perfunctorily 


SHOPPING DIFFICULT 


45 


courteous. The hurt her attitude had inflicted 
upon him, came quickly back upon her because 
he treated her as he might have treated any other 
customer. 

“ Mr. Van Besten ? ” said a clerk, approaching 
deferentially. 

‘‘ What is it .? ” he asked. 

‘‘ There's a man waiting to see you, sir. Here's 
his card." 

William glanced at the card. “ Show him 
into my office. I'll be there shortly." He turned 
back to his wife, but she was engrossed, so he 
bowed ceremoniously and went away. 

Sally finished her business and left the store. 
“ I needn't have minded going," she reflected, 
sorely. “ It was nothing to him. He doesn't 
care at all." She had been wont to consider 
William Van Besten as a factor, of importance 
to be sure, but primarily a factor, in her own life. 
Somehow that visit to the opulent Van Besten 
store had emphasized to her that William possessed 
an independent life of his own, stocked with inter- 
ests with which she had nothing whatever to do. 

As for William, the drummer whom he found 
waiting in his office thought him singularly 
absent-minded and himself dismissed somewhat 
abruptly. Mr. Van Besten was for the moment 
unable to concentrate his attention upon the 
exigencies of next fall's trade. Although he sat 
doggedly at his desk until the hour for closing the 
store, he accomplished nothing more than going 


46 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


over and over again every detail of Sally’s appear- 
ance, her manner, her few commonplace words. 
He had known, of course, that sometime the 
encounter was sure to come. As he walked the 
Kirton street he had been subconsciously expectant 
of a buoyant, light-stepping figure, a fresh, 
vigorous countenance with hazel eyes. When he 
appeared most engrossed in the details of his 
business, he was sometimes engaged in a mental 
interview quite disconnected with it, in which a 
calm, kind, logical setting forth of his views 
proved triumphantly convincing to feminine under- 
standing. His brief interview with Sally had 
been very different from that. It had revived the 
sting of mortification and left him to a drearier 
loneliness. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE BLACK SHEEP COME TO THE RESCUE 

T he pleasant distant croon of Joe Haselton’s 
paper mill reached the village street like the 
faraway hum of a gigantic bumble bee. A strip 
of turf, bordered by maple trees, ran through the 
middle of Manorton. On the light railing by 
which it was enclosed, the Manorton boys loved 
to sit and swing their heels while concocting fun 
and mischief. Over their heads, in just another 
merry and ragged line, English sparrows perched 
on the telegraph wires. The long double row 
of maple trees was the glory of Manorton, whether 
throwing out coral buds in the spring; or relieving 
with their deep summergreen eyes tired with 
the sun-glare of the road; or when the leaves 
turned to a gold that made Manorton sunshiny 
even on a cloudy day; or with fine stripped sym- 
metry revealed against a winter sky; or when clad 
in a fairyland beauty of white ermine or sparkling 
crystal. Late every afternoon the unpaved grass- 
bordered footwalk was populous for a little while 
at mail time. At this morning hour most of the 
47 


48 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

villagers were busy indoors and the street almost 
deserted. Two idlers, however, Harlan Morgan 
and Allen Mackenzie, might be seen, as at almost 
any hour of the day. They touched their hats to 
Mrs. Van Besten as they sauntered past the 
window where she sat sewing. 

Sally returned a frigid, disapproving bow. 

The black sheep of Manorton cared very little 
whether Sally Van Besten approved of them or not, 
and yet the chilling recollection of her bow was 
still present with them as they settled themselves 
in their usual places on the hotel veranda. 

“ Censorious little cat — ’’ Harlan Morgan mut- 
tered lazily. 

Allen Mackenzie nodded agreement. “ Plenty 
of ginger in her makeup, I reckon. Just as well 
for Van Besten, maybe, that they concluded to 
stay apart.” 

The two had not always been Manorton’s black 
sheep. Once, worth while achievement had been 
expected of them. Nowadays, Harlan Morgan 
glanced neither to right nor left as he went along, 
but shunned recognition because it hurt him to 
read judgment in other people’s eyes. As his 
thick dark hair grew grizzled, he no longer held 
his head with the buoyancy of his untested youth. 
It drooped forward and his shoulders, too, were 
bowed under the heavy, invisible load of the dis- 
appointing years. Allen Mackenzie, although 
aware that he, too, was a failure, went his way 
more jauntily. He might be a dead beat, but he 


THE BLACK SHEEP 


49 

never forgot or failed to be consoled by the fact 
that he was also a gentleman. 

“ I wonder what keeps taking those two men 
over to Thompson's ? " Mrs. Haselton said. 

“ Those poor children," Sally said, compas- 
sionately. 

Philip Thompson had been another of Manor- 
ton’s black sheep. When his substance had 
been squandered in unwise living, he went away 
abruptly from Manorton and left his three mother- 
less children and his creditors to shift for them- 
selves. Millie did her ignorant, girlish best, but 
the neighbors believed that the three often went 
hungry. Perhaps in their would-be helpfulness 
the neighbors lacked tact. Millie rebuffed aid 
and resented interference. Therefore her neigh- 
bors charitably bestowed slabs of bread and 
butter and triangles of pie upon the always hungry 
Thompson boys, but let Millie severely alone. 
For a time she was a noisy, harum-scarum, hoyden, 
with two long pig- tails hanging down her back. 
Then a transformation came. The pig-tails gave 
place to a bright, alluring coil of brown hair 
crowning her shapely head. About this time her 
disapproving acquaintance, the loungers at the 
hotel, and Mrs. Van Besten in her window, noticed 
Morris Stetson, son of the proprietor of the hotel 
and his father’s assistant, often at Millie’s side, 
waiting for her at the foot of the school-house hill. 
They were more and more together, immeshed in 
happy sensation, heedless of watchful eyes. Sally 


50 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

found them far more interesting than the black 
sheep. 

Millie’s father had been a crony of the black 
sheep. 

“ That’s beginning to look serious, ^ain’t it ? ” 
Morgan commented. 

“ I hope it is serious,” Allen Mackenzie said 
soberly. “ Morris is a pretty good young fellow, 
I reckon, and that girl must have a rough time 
of it at home.” 

“Jove! How could Phil go off and leave those 
three helpless kids to shift for themselves ? ” 
ejaculated Morgan. 

“ Phil never meant to desert them. I don’t 
think it of him for a minute.” Mr. Mackenzie 
looked reproachfully at his friend. “ See here, 
Harl, you and I have had some royal times with 
old Phil, and don’t you forget. I wish I was 
able to do something for his children now.” 

The two men smoked in reminiscent silence. 
Presently Mr. Mackenzie rose. “ Guess I’ll go 
over and brouse around among Phil’s books.” 

He found Millie in an unhappy heap on a very 
rickety lounge. “ Why, my dear child, I beg 
your pardon!” he exclaimed with his accustomed 
courtesy, so much more accentuated than that 
of any one else in Manorton, and charming 
always to a woman, even to so young a woman as 
Millie Thompson. “ What is the matter, Millie ? 
Hadn’t you better tell your old Uncle A1 ? ” he 
asked, with ingratiating sympathy. 


THE BLACK SHEEP 


51 

Millie raised a pretty flushed face from the sofa 
pillows and gave him a wavering smile. “ Uncle 
Al, isn’t it horrible to be poor and not able to get 
things that you really ought to have ? ” 

“ It certainly is,” he answered, emphatically. 

Millie sat up and clenched her hands fiercely. 
“ Uncle Al, I don’t think the Lord ought to send 
people into the world and never provide for them.” 
She faced him tragically. 

Mr. Mackenzie raised both hands in depreca- 
tion. “ My dear, I beg of you, don’t make me 
responsible for the Lord’s unaccountable doings.” 

Millie laughed. 

His book forgotten, Mr. Mackenzie helped 
himself to a chair. “ Why is it so particularly 
unpleasant at the present moment to be poor ? ” 
he asked. 

Millie hesitated. Then she looked frankly 
across at him. “ Stella Brownson’s come home 
from boarding school, and she’s going to have a 
party. A real party, dancing, you know. There’s 
going to be music from Kirton and everything. 
It’s going to be perfectly lovely and I’m crazy 
to go, but I can’t.” 

“ Why can’t you go .? ” 

“ Because I haven’t any dress I could possibly 
wear.” For an instant, Millie buried her face in 
the sofa pillow again. All the imperious craving 
of youth for the lovely, the seemly, tugged at her 
heart. Sally Van Besten had noticed her pitiful 
effort at self-adornment, her unskilled readjust- 


52 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

ments of garments past righting; and both the 
woman and the dressmaker had longed to go to 
the rescue. 

“ Oh, well, I can’t go,” Millie sighed. “ That’s 
all there is about it. I told Morris I’d go if I 
could, but I’ll have to let him know so that he can 
ask some other girl.” 

At the mention of Morris, Mr. Mackenzie 
regarded her thoughtfully, and she colored under 
his gaze. Mr. Mackenzie’s long fingers stole 
into his trousers’ pocket, and drew out some 
very small change, and regarded it with contempt. 

Millie uttered a gasp of protest. “ Oh, no, 
you mustn’t think of that. Uncle Al! You know 
I couldn’t let you. Why, I’d never have any 
comfort telling you things again.” 

Mr. Mackenzie thrust the coins back into his 
pocket. “ My dear, you needn’t worry.” He 
considered. “ So Morris wants to take you, 
does he ? ” 

“ Couldn’t you scare up some of your mother’s 
old finery ? ” he suggested after a pause. “ She 
used to have lots of pretty things.” 

“ Yes, but I don’t know how to fix them,” 
Millie said sadly. “ Some girls might, but nobody 
ever showed me how to do things.” 

“ Can’t you ask some woman to help you ? ” 

“ No, I can’t,” Millie answered, decidedly. 
“ People don’t approve of me.” 

“ That’s strange. They don’t approve of me 
either,” Mr. Mackenzie said affably. “ But I 


THE BLACK SHEEP 


53 


really can’t see why they don’t approve of you. 
I do.” Suddenly he sat up and slapped the arm 
of his chair. “ See here, Millie, you have your 
mother’s sewing machine, haven’t you ? ” 

“ Yes.” Millie looked up. “ I found some 
lovely pink and white stuff in a trunk up garret.” 

“ That’s it. You fetch it down.” He went 
briskly away to find Harlan Morgan. Mr. Mor- 
gan, listening at first with the listless air of one 
whose time is valueless, grew animated in dismay. 
“ See here, Al, I’m no dressmaker,” he said. 
“Any gown you and I fabricate will be so original 
that poor child won’t want to wear it.” 

“ No, it won’t. We’ll buy a pattern.” Mr. 
Mackenzie insisted. “ What’s the reason two 
able-bodied men, one of them an artist, and a 
bright girl, and a sewing machine, can’t manu- 
facture one single dress. Come along and don’t 
be chicken-hearted.” 

Harlan Morgan rose lazily. “ I must say I 
admire your confidence. You always were a 
versatile chap.” 

“ I’ve sometimes thought that I ought to have 
been a woman,” the other said, reflectively. 
“ Then some foolish fellow would have been 
impressed with my charm, that same versatility 
you know, and married me, and never found out 
how intrinsically worthless I am. Come along, 
Harl.” 

The two spent the remainder of the day at the 
Thompson’s, and the next day and the next. 


54 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Their voices mingled with Millie’s anxious 
tones, at moments raised high in discussion, 
drifted out of the side windows across the Haselton 
yard to Sally in her corner chamber. 

Now if William Van Besten had not been 
called upon to fill his business niche and to respond 
to the various demands made upon him by the 
community to which he belonged, he would have 
sought peace in isolation. Sally, his wife, felt 
more strongly the pull to go out to help, and to 
feel, with her kind. She felt it the more as time 
went on and William made no overtures. 

Sally’s perceptions were quick. The whir of 
the sewing machine came faintly to her. Then 
Millie’s voice with a note of dismay. “ Oh, 
Uncle Al, that isn’t very straight!” 

Poor little ill-equipped Millie! Was it possible 
that in all Manorton only those two worthless 
do-noughts had found a way to make needed aid 
acceptable ^ Sally’s heart smote her. She cast 
aside her own work and went quickly downstairs. 
“ They’ll probably think I’m an awful meddler.” 

The bell at one side of the Thompson’s dingy 
front door was broken and refused to ring. Sally 
knocked gently, then feeling like a guilty intruder, 
opened the door and walked to the sitting-room. 
The three there were too deep in perplexity to 
heed her coming. 

Sally’s alert and energetic figure paused on 
the threshold and her fresh lips parted in an 
involuntary smile. Millie was trying the dress. 


THE BLACK SHEEP 


55 


Flushed and gready troubled, she was trying 
valiantly to conceal her misgivings. Harlan Mor- 
gan, sitting on the edge of the table, his long legs 
dangling to the floor, surveyed his handiwork 
unhappily. “ I wish I knew what’s the matter 
with the darned thing,” he said. 

Allen Mackenzie, with a blue gingham apron 
tied about his waist, the front of his coat glittering 
with pins and needles, sat before the sewing 
machine. “ We must keep on trying until we 
get it right,” he insisted with would-be cheer. 

“ You look very industrious,” said Mrs. Van 
Besten at the door, and the three started with the 
guilt of conspirators. Sally surveyed the con- 
fusion of scraps and sewing implements, the 
broadcast gleam of pins. 

“ Oh, Miss Sally!” Then Millie stopped short 
in dismay at her own inadvertence. In her little 
girl days she had known her neighbor as Miss 
Sally, and she had almost forgotten the Van 
Besten wedding. She hurried on to hide her 
confusion. “ They’re trying to make me a dress 
so that I can go to Stella Brownson’s party. It’s 
awfully kind of them, but I’m afraid we’ll have 
to give it up. You won’t tell anybody, will you ? 
Please don’t.” 

“Never! Trust me,” said Sally, emphatically. 
“ What lovely stuff*. I’ll help you.” 

“ Oh, no, you’re so busy. I couldn’t let you 
do it unless I was able to pay.” Millie’s pride 
was stung. She flushed, her lips quivered. She 


56 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

hated to feel that her ungraciousness must give 
offence. 

But Sally Van Besten understood. The men 
watching her and Millie saw the warm sympathy 
in her hazel eyes and liked her immensely. Impul- 
sively she caught Millie by the shoulders and 
looked down into her face. 

“ See here, Millie, I know exactly how you 
feel, but you mustn’t be foolish. I’d love to do 
it. If you’re so awfully proud, why then pay me 
if you want to. Come over and help me some 
day. There are lots of things you could do. 
We’ll just change off work, don’t you see ? ” 

Millie wavered. Sally examined the material. 
“ You couldn’t find anything as pretty as that 
in the shops nowadays,” she said, admiringly. 
Then Millie succumbed to the allurement of a 
real party dress made by a real first class dress- 
maker. The two masculine tyros in dressmaking 
sighed with relief as they joyfully resigned their 
task to more competent hands. Mrs. Van Besten 
promptly took command of the situation. “Stand 
over there, Millie, and let me have a look at it,” 
she said. “ It’s really astonishing how well you 
men have done,” and the black sheep exchanged 
pleased glances. “I see exactly what it needs,” 
Sally went on. “ Those sleeves aren’t set in right, 
that’s all. Mr. Morgan, the reason that skirt 
hangs crooked, is because you’ve put the front 
breadths in the back and the back breadths 
in the front. Don’t you see ? ” She smiled at 


THE BLACK SHEEP 


57 

his mortified look. “ That’s easily changed. 
Take it off, Millie, please, and let me have it.” 

“ I suppose v^e’d better get out and leave you 
a clear field.” Mr. Mackenzie spoke regretfully 
as he untied his gingham apron. Both he and 
his friend showed such hearty interest in the 
pink and white gown that Sally’s heart was touched. 

“ Oh, no indeed, you mustn’t desert us!” she 
said. “ We must all help along. Mr. Morgan, 
would you just as soon rip out those sleeves ? 
Mr. Mackenzie, I’ll have these breadths ready 
for you to stitch on the machine in a few 
minutes.” 

The four fell to work in a happy sociability which 
Harlan Morgan and Allen Mackenzie, long unused 
to cheery feminine companionship, found very 
delightful. 

On the evening of the Brownson’s party, Mrs. 
Van Besften met Mr. Morgan and Mr. Mackenzie 
on the Thompson’s steps and the three regarded 
each other with friendly understanding. “I 
thought I’d run over and see if I could help her 
dress,” Sally explained, and leaving them in the 
hall, ran upstairs to Millie. 

The men sat down and waited expectantly. Allen 
Mackenzie smiled quizzically. “Do you know. Had, 
I’m nervous, positively nervous,” he confessed; and 
recognized fellow-feeling in his friend, although 
Harlan Morgan merely shrugged his shoulders. 
The two sat listening. When they heard voices, steps, 
rustling draperies on the stairs, Morgan thumped 


58 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

down his pipe. ‘‘She’s coming,” he announced 
unnecessarily. 

In a moment a lovely vision hesitated in the 
doorway, then walked forward into the circle of 
lamplight. A charming elation, born of girlish 
vanity long pitifully starved, now happily appeased, 
made Millie radiant. She looked like a flower 
in her filmy pink and white. Her bare white 
neck and arms made tender appeal in their 
slender immaturity. Her happy eyes were very 
bright. As they looked upon her the tired eyes 
of the two old men brightened. Shining remin- 
iscences of their own dead youth made their worn 
faces tender and wistful. 

Millie looked back at them with a new and 
charming coquetry. “ Don’t you think it’s 
pretty ? ” She glanced gratefully from one to the 
other, and at Sally Van Besten. “ Oh, you’ve all 
been so lovely and kind to me! If it hadn’t been 
for you, I couldn’t possibly have gone.” 

A knock sounded on the front door. “ There’s 
Morris,” Millie cried excitedly, and flew to admit 
him. Then Sally Van Besten wrapped her own 
white silk shawl about the girl’s shoulders. “ You 
look lovely,” she whispered. “ Have a good 
time.” 

Impetuously, Millie kissed her. Then the 
girl gave her hand to Mr. Morgan, to Uncle Al. 
“ Good-night! Good-night!” Then she turned 
to the young man watching her so intently. 
“ Come on, Morris,” she bade, with the gay 


THE BLACK SHEEP 


59 


imperiousness of a little queen who had just found 
her sceptre. The boy followed her as the steel 
follows the magnet. 

With an agreeable sense of social rehabilitation, 
Mr. Morgan and Mr. Mackenzie escorted Mrs. 
Van Besten to her gate. 

“ She’s all right,” Allen Mackenzie said when 
they had seen the door close behind her. “ She’s 
all right!” 

“ By Jove! I like her pluck, quitting the fellow 
when she found out he wasn’t what she thought 
him,” Harlan said emphatically. 

Sally Van Besten had in a measure comforted 
their sore sensibilities and made them feel less 
barred outside the staid and ponderous respecta- 
bility of the village. She had proved herself 
frank and kindly. Henceforth, whatever other 
people might say of her, these two were her 
loyal friends. 

Still with that delightful unaccustomed glow of 
satisfactory achievement warming their sluggish 
blood, the two men settled down for a smoke on 
their favorite end of the hotel veranda. 

“ She’s a good looker, all right,” Mr. Morgan 
said, referring to Millie Thompson with something 
like exulting paternal pride. “ I bet there won’t 
be a prettier girl there this evening.” 

“ There won’t. Nor a prettier dress either. 
Some of the other girls’ dresses will have cost 
more,” Mr. Mackenzie conceded, ‘‘but they 
won’t look any better. I’ll venture to wager.” 


6o AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


Far down the village street they could see two 
unusual lights from the big Japanese lanterns 
hung over Mrs. Brownson’s gate. Even at this 
distance, the men sensed something of the gay 
excitement of the party. 

“ Wonder what time that child’s going to get 
home ? ” Mr. Mackenzie said. “ See here, Harl, 
it doesn’t seem quite the thing for a young girl 
like Millie to be coming home with a young fellow 
any time of night and nobody on hand to see that 
she gets in all right. Not a soul in that house 
but two small boys, and they’re fast asleep.” 

“ No more it isn’t,” the other said. 

“ What do you say ? Shall we sit up for her ? 
We might go over presently and be there when 
she comes.” 

‘‘ I’d just as soon,” Mr. Morgan acquiesced 
indolently. 

For a long time they sat and smoked. Then 
Harlan Morgan fell silent and appeared to grow 
extraordinarily absentminded. He held his pipe 
suspended and shuffled his feet uneasily. At 
last he rose slowly and went into the barroom. 
Mr. Mackenzie rose too. “ Better not,” he said, 
almost as though in soliloquy, but he followed 
his friend up to the bar. 

“ Give me another,” Harlan Morgan demanded. 

Allen Mackenzie silently shoved back his glass 
to be refilled. 

“ It’s getting cold out there on the veranda.” 

Mr. Stetson gave them a keen look as they went 


THE BLACK SHEEP 


6 


out of the barroom. ‘"Trouble brewing/’ he 
said to himself, laconically. “ Well, its getting 
to be about time.” 

As the two men settled down again in their 
arm chairs, they were filled with pleasant con- 
sciousness of their meritorous attitude toward 
Phil’s girl. They told each other that there 
wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for Phil’s girl. 
They would sit up all night for her before they 
would have her coming home unwelcomed, un- 
guarded. They felt that the apples of the Hes- 
perides hung within reach of her eager young 
fingers, and that they must help her to grasp them. 

After awhile Harlan Morgan’s hand began to 
twitch as it lay on the arm of his chair. Desire 
glowed under his heavy eyelids. 

“ I’m going to have another drink.” He spoke 
truculently, but Allen Mackenzie offered no 
opposition. All the evening they lurched in and 
out of the bar-room. Allen Mackenzie became 
dimly aware of shadowy figures in the street and 
his half forgotten purpose came back to him. 
“ Come, Harl. Time to go now. Time to go 
meet Millie.” 

The other did not move. 

“ Come along. What’s the matter with you ? 
It’s time, I tell you.” 

“ Let me alone,” the other growled, but he 
rose unsteadily. 

Supporting each other, proceeding gingerly, as 
though on dangerous ice, the two shuffled across 


62 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


the veranda to the steps. There Harlan Morgan 
flung his arms around a pillar of the veranda and 
refused to be detached. ** Let go! Let me ’lone! 
Fm not going, I tell you. I can’t go. You can’t go. 
You’re drunk. Go to bed, man. You’re drunk, 
I tell you!” 

The miasma of defeat once more enveloped 
them. To-morrow the old sore self-contempt 
and humiliation would bring back the old inertia. 

Mr. Stetson woke in the night and listened to 
tell-tale dragging steps now pausing, then shuffling 
on again on a difficult way upstairs. “Just as I 
thought it was going to be,” he soliloquized as he 
turned on his pillow. 


CHAPTER V 


AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT 

A WAIL from her small nephew drew Sally 
to the kitchen. Mrs. Haselton, clothed in 
motherly severity, was vigorously shaking little Joe. 

“You naughty, naughty boy!’’ she said, “I 
don’t know what I am going to do with you.” 

Joe’s red lips, his round cheeks, were encrusted 
with a sticky glaze. His baby chin quivered 
pathetically at his mother’s unkindly touch. His 
large blue eyes were suddenly drenched in grief. 

Sally, who adored him, regarded Annie re- 
proachfully. “ What has he done ? ” she asked. 

“Done! the naughty boy!” Annie turned to 
her. “ Why when I was down cellar just now, 
he dragged a chair over to the cupboard and 
climbed up and helped himself to the molasses jar. 
Look at him! I believe he’s drunk a pint of it.” 

“ It won’t hurt him, I guess,” Sally said, 
soothingly. In appeal from his mother’s unkind- 
ness, little Joe held out the arms of one who 
longed for comfort. He sobbed. Big round 
crystal tears hung on his long lashes. His curly 
63 


64 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

head drooped under his mother’s condemnation. 
In spite of the obvious exigency of discipline, 
Sally could not resist him. She knelt down and 
put her arm around him. “Joe, how could you 
be so naughty ^ ” she rebuked caressingly. 

“ I ought to spank him,” his mother said 
energetically. 

“ Oh, Annie, he’s only a baby,” Sally expostu- 
lated. 

“ You’d just spoil that child if you had your 
way,” his mother complained, but there was an 
undercurrent of affectionate amusement in her 
voice. 

‘‘ Come along, Joe, and let Aunt Sally wash off 
the stickiness.” Surrendering weakly to his baby 
charm, Sally gathered him up. His big tears 
vanished miraculously. So did all signs of con- 
trition as Joe flung his short arms around this 
comforting Aunt Sally and peeped inquiringly 
at his mother through his curls. 

Later, Mrs. Haselton mentioned the incident 
to her husband. “ Sally’s so fond of children. 
She ought to have her own babies.” 

“ So she ought, and I wish she had ’em,” Joseph 
said. “ I declare, Annie, I don’t understand 
why that had to go wrong. It was the last thing 
anybody’d ever have expected.” Sally’s coura- 
geous self-assertion, her professional triumphs, 
inspired him with brotherly admiration. 

Sally went away upstairs to her work and sat 
down in her sewing chair by the window. She 


AN ANNOUNCEMENT 


65 


heard the Thompson’s front door slam and the 
Thompson’s ricketty gate swing on its groaning 
hinges, and she looked out and nodded response 
to Millie’s impetuous wave of the hand. “ Oh, 
Sally, I’m coming to see you,” Millie called. 
Sally bent over her sewing again, and listened 
expectantly for the house door to open and familiar 
quick steps on the stairs, and she looked up, 
smiling affectionately, when the girl appeared. 
How happy Millie looked. How delightfully, 
unreservedly happy. She came into the room 
like a spring breeze. In her clear young eyes, in 
the curves of her red lips lay mysterious, inex- 
pressible delight. 

“ Good morning, Sally. Isn’t it just the love- 
liest day ? I’ve swept the sitting-room, and I’ve 
made ginger cookies for tea, and I simply couldn’t 
stay in the house and work another minute. I’m 
so restless.” She fluttered around the room 
inconsequently and picked up a scrap of serge 
from the carpet. ** Is this Mrs. Brownson’s new 
suit ? How’s she going to have it made ? ” But 
she scarcely heeded Sally’s answer. 

“ What is the matter with you this morning ? ” 
Sally asked, with a kind of merry understanding. 
‘‘ Why don’t you sit down, child I never saw 
such an uneasy mortal.” 

Millie laughed, a gay little nervous trill. She 
hesitated by Sally’s dresser, and picked up one 
small article after another, then laid it back in 
place. She came lightly, swiftly, across the room 


66 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


and threw herself down on the floor at Sally’s 
feet and clasped her in impetuous arms, and buried 
her face in Sally’s lap. She was quite still for a 
moment, and then she glanced up. “ I’m so 
happy! So happy!” she whispered with a fervor 
that brought unexpected tears to her eyes. She 
drove them away with a smile at her own folly. 

Sally Van Besten’s heart warmed to the frank 
girlish appeal for sympathy. She leaned forward 
and took Millie’s face between her two soft, firm 
palms and kissed it. “ I’m so glad, dear,” she 
said heartily. 

Still in the grip of her wonderful, beautiful 
news, Millie laid her head down again for an 
instant on Sally’s knee. When she looked up 
again, rich lovely color floated over her pretty 
quivering face, suffusing even her neck, her 
delicate ears; but Millie did not care. She did 
not even know that she was blushing. 

‘‘ Fm engaged,” she said dramatically, and 
hugged Sally again in pure exuberance of joy. 
She felt as one entering the portals of life, dazzled, 
yet suddenly made wise by the wonder revealed. 
She looked back with affectionate contempt 
upon the little girl self she had been yesterday. 
To-day she was a woman engaged to be married. 
“ It seems wonderful,” she said softly. 

Millie had known other girls in the same case. 
The announcement of a friend’s engagement 
had been interesting, but only as a historic fact. 
Now a great illumination had come to her. Now 


AN ANNOUNCEMENT 67 

she understood. “ You’ve been so dear and kind. 
I wanted you to know first of all,” she said. 

Sally could not help kissing again the upturned 
face. “ I am so glad,” she repeated. “I am 
truly glad for you, Millie, dear. Fm sure Morris 
loves you dearly, and I think he will make you a 
good, devoted husband.” 

“ Oh, I know that,” Millie said proudly. “I 
hope Fll make him a good wife — satisfy him. 
He thinks Fm so much better than I am. I want 
to be all he thinks me.” Her eager look softened 
to wistfulness. Once again, love was teaching 
its high lesson of humility. “ Oh, you don’t know 
how fine and manly he is! He doesn’t talk much, 
but he really has such fine standards about things.” 
Her dreamy eyes looked inward at her lover’s 
nobility. “ I never realized before,” she went 
on thoughtfully, “what a responsibility it is to 
have a man care for you like that. It makes you 
feel as though you had so much more influence 
than you deserve. Why, really and truly, Morris 
thinks that my opinion about everything is im- 
portant.” 

The glad, whole-hearted surrender moved Sally. 
Millie thought that she looked unhappy. The 
girl had never yet ventured any allusion to William 
Van Besten, but now her own joy and excitement 
made her bold. “ Oh, I wish, I wish, you were as 
happy as I am,” she said fervently. “ How could 
that dreadful man treat you so ? You!” 

“ What do you mean .? ” Sally drew away- her 


68 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


hands and sat up rigidly. She looked coldly self- 
possessed, but her hazel eyes flashed. The chill in 
her voice frightened Millie, rebuked her daring. 

“ Forgive me. I didn’t mean to be impertinent.” 
she said hurriedly. “ Please don’t be angry, Sally. 
Only I can’t help hating him for making you un- 
happy. Everybody knows he wasn’t worthy of 
you. They say you had a fortunate escape.” 

“ What! ” Sally appeared incredulous of what 
she heard. 

“ Please, please don’t be angry,” Millie pleaded. 
But Sally was angry. Unkind words trembled on 
her lips, and Millie watched her changed face 
in dismay. 

“ What can you possibly know about it ? What 
right have you to set yourself up as judge of a 
man like Mr. Van Besten ? ” his wife demanded 
energetically. 

Millie could not feel that she merited such 
severity. ‘'All I know is what everybody says,” 
she spoke with spirit, roused to self-defence. 

“ What does everybody say ? ” Sally’s stern 
gaze required an answer. 

“ They say he’s just as narrow-minded and 
disagreeable as he can be,” Millie asserted. 
“ Everybody knows that he’s made lots of trouble 
on the Civic Building Committee up in Kirton. 
They’d put him off it if they could.” She hesi- 
tated, then went on relentlessly. “ They say he 
led a double life for years, and that he told you 
things after you were married because he was 


AN ANNOUNCEMENT 


69 


afraid you’d find them out, and that’s why you 
left him.” Millie hesitated again. ‘‘ There’s a 
lady up there in Kirton that he’s attentive to. 
And he’s married to you! I think he’s horrid, 
horrid! I can’t help it if you are angry. I do 
think he’s horrid.” 

“ But it isn’t true. It isn’t true. People 
haven’t any right to make up such things about 
him.” Sally spoke hotly. She leaned forward im- 
pressively. “ I tell you William Van Besten never 
did anything to be ashamed of in his whole life. 
He is a thoroughly upright and honorable man.” 

“ Then why, why ? ” Millie began in a bewil- 
dered way. 

Hush,” bade Sally. “ Don’t question me, 
Millie.” 

Millie sighed forlornly. She did not know 
what to say. She was ready to cry at the indis- 
cretion into which her impulsiveness had hurried 
her. Mrs. Van Besten’s bright needle flashed in 
and out. She knew that Millie loved her, and 
meant no harm. Suddenly Sallie took shame to 
herself because she had quenched the child’s 
joyousness to-day of all days. “ Never mind, 
Millie. I didn’t mean to be cross. Don’t think 
any more about my uncomfortable affairs. Only ” 
— she spoke very earnestly — “you mustn’t think 
such things of Mr. Van Besten. It isn’t fair. It’s 
horribly unjust. You must believe me when I 
tell you — they aren’t true.” Her look was 
troubled. Then it changed. 


70 AN INTERRUPTED HON ET MOON 


“ Come/’ she said briskly. “ Tell me about 
you and Morris. Oh, I thought you and he 
would soon reach an understanding. Fve seen 
it coming a long time, you know. How pleased 
Mr. Morgan and Mr. Mackenzie will be!” 

Millie brightened. “ Yes, they will. Sally, I 
don’t care what people say about those two, 
they’ve always been just as good and kind as 
they could to me.” 

Millie could not help brightening at recollection 
of her happiness, but she did so hesitatingly, as 
though perhaps she ought not. She sighed in 
sympathy for Sally which she dared not express. 

Sally understood. “ When is it to be, dear 
Let me see.” She held Millie off with a gentle 
pressure on the shoulder and looked her over 
with professional eyes. “ You must give me 
plenty of notice, you know. I’m going to make 
your wedding dress. Millie, you’ll look lovely in 
a wedding dress. I mean to take more pains 
with that dress than I ever did before. I tell 
you. Morris’ll be proud of you.” 

Millie hugged her again in happy gratitude, and 
began to tell her more about Morris, the inex- 
haustible Morris. Sally listened kindly, genially, 
to the girlish babble of sweet, strange, wonderful 
trifles, conscious all the time of a corroding pain 
which she would not investigate until she was alone. 

Millie went away at last. Then Sally dropped 
her work and sat in dreary thought. Little Joe 
rambled into the room but she did not heed him. 


AN ANNOUNCEMENT 


71 


She was thinking of William, whom usually 
maiden instinct bade her try to keep out of mind 
because he had apparently shut her out of his 
life. She could not help wondering if he knew 
what people were saying of him; and it stung her 
to realize the grim humor that he must perceive 
between the truth and the report. She had never 
dreamed that her heedless course would bring 
scandal upon him, and yet it was not strange 
that it had done so. Of course it must be all 
scandal. A moment of sharp misgiving hurt 
Sally. She did not want to think less well of 
William. How could she clear his reputation ? 
Tell the truth ? She cringed at the thought. 

She was suddenly conscious of little Joe’s 
guilty silence. He greeted her startled glance 
with a crow of mingled mischief and consternation 
from the farthest corner of the room where, sitting 
in an entanglement of braids, he was creating 
havoc with the trimmings of Mrs. Brownson’s 
gown. Tragic thoughts fled as Sally sprang to 
rescue. “ Oh, Joe, what in the world are you 
doing ? You mustn’t ever, ever, touch Aunt 
Sally’s things. Stop! Stop! Keep your little 
hands still till I can unwind that.” 

Calmly regardless of his mischief, Joe, well 
knowing his power, clasped Aunt Sally around 
the neck as she bent over him. He held her 
close with all the might of his short, plump arms, 
and Sally yielded to the sweet baby roughness, 
and kissed instead of shaking him. “ Naughty 


72 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


boy, see how you’ve mussed all poor Aunt Sally’s 
trimmings!” She spoke reproachfully, and Joe 
pressed sweet, moist, propitiating kisses on her 
face. 

She loved his confident appeal. She loved the 
feeling of his warm heavy little body in her arms, 
against her breast. Her heart swelled with a 
great unappeasable yearning as she clasped him. 
Little Joe looked up into her face wonderingly 
feeling something unusual in her tight embrace. 

Presently she sent him off to his mother and 
closed her door. She felt too nervous, too wretched 
to go back at once to her work. A thought 
struck her. Standing on a chair, she lifted down 
a pasteboard box from the topmost shelf of her 
closet. She set it upon her bed and opened it, 
and unfolded many wrappings of white tissue 
paper. Her face was very sad, very wistful, as 
she lifted out her wedding dress and shook out 
its rich shimmering folds. A beautiful dress, and 
everybody had told her that it was becoming. 
Brides usually looked pale, they said. She had 
not looked pale. Sally started back from the 
bed, for a great tear had splashed down on the 
fair satin. She looked down at the wet blotch, 
sore at heart. “ I meant to be a good wife.” 
She stood going over and over again in her mind 
all that Millie had said. Could it be that William 
was beginning to care for someone else .? If so, 
he ought to know that his wife would never assert 
her barren claim. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE judge’s opinion 


HORRID smarting sense of her own defence- 



lessness against idle humiliating gossip stayed 
with Sally. She could not drive it away. The 
horrid things said of William were not true. She 
said passionately to herself that they were not 
true, and yet she could not keep from wondering 
from what possible germ of truth they might have 
sprung. An inquisitive world inclined to think 
the worst that it could. There were spiteful 
people, too, people perhaps whom William had 
irritated. She knew exactly how he would be on 
the Executive Committee, how he would never 
try to conciliate individuals, but would consider 
only what it was really best and right to do. 

Millie Thompson, who was to be married in a 
few weeks, came one morning for a fitting of 
her wedding dress. She was in a flutter of 
pleasure and gratitude over the sheer, dainty 
gown, simple and inexpensive as to material, yet 
exquisitely bride-like. Sally admired and sympa- 
thized with unselfish pleasure, and gave her best 


73 


74 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

attention and spared herself no trouble. When 
the fitting was over Millie sat down and sewed 
industriously for an hour or so, and then ran 
away to meet an important engagement with 
Morris Stetson. 

Sally worked away with the best will in the 
world, but a bitterness lay on her spirit. She 
did not grudge Millie a scrap of her radiant 
happiness, but it made her feel that she sorely 
wanted to be happy herself. She did not want 
to be merely a spectator all her life, to go on and 
on through the long years equipping other women 
for the thrilling issues of life, never meeting them 
herself. She demanded participation in the feast. 
Sally startled herself by a long impatient sigh. 
“ Oh, Tm so tired of sitting still!” 

Out in the sunshiny yard, the matted autumnal 
grass was littered with twigs, with pale brown 
pods from the honey locust trees. Oval leaflets, 
like flakes of virgin gold, were drifting down 
from the branches. The masses of China asters 
and French marigolds in Mrs. Haselton’s borders 
had begun to sprawl untidily, scorched here and 
there by the first frosts. From somewhere along 
the street came the pungent aroma of a bonfire. 
Somebody was burning the raked up autumn 
leaves. She could hear the crackle of the flame. 

It became intolerable to sit still any longer 
under her burden of dissatisfactions. The spirit 
of her home-cleaning ancestresses came upon 
Sally. For generation after generation it had 


75 


THE JUDGES OPINION 

been their habit twice a year to ferret out every 
bit of dust and corruption from their domain 
and to reduce it indoors and out to spotless order. 
In the spirit of her inheritance, Sally abandoned 
her dressmaking and descended to clean the 
dooryard. Presently Mrs. Haselton saw her with 
loose old gloves drawn over her white hands — 
Sally was a bit vain of her hands, — equipped with 
a brush broom and a rake, energetically dragging 
forth the debris collected in a fence corner. Mrs. 
Haselton gave herself brief intermission from the 
kitchen and went out to remonstrate. 

“ Sally, why on earth do you do that ^ Why 
don’t you leave it for Joe ? ” 

“ I like to do it.” Sally was flushed with her 
exertions. She straightened herself and drew a 
long breath. With a gurgle of delight, little Joe 
bestrode the long rake handle and galloped off. 
“ You little rogue, bring that rake straight back,” 
she called, and started in merry pursuit. 

Mrs. Haselton stood breathing in the sparkling 
autumn air. “ Well, I suppose I must go in and 
look at my biscuits. They’re in the oven.” She 
turned reluctantly toward the house. Then she 
called from the kitchen door, “ Oh, Sally, there 
comes Billy O. Stickles. Will you see him for 
me, please I want a box of baking powder, 
and some nutmegs, and get some sweet potatoes 
and anything else that seems nice.” 

“All right, Annie,” Sally answered. 

Progressing slowly along the village street, Billy 


76 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

O. Stickles, with his wagon load of commodities, 
halted at the Haselton gate with a cheerful hail. 
“ Whoop ther®-! Sweet potatoes and Yankee 
notions!’’ 

Sally dropped her broom and went to him. 
“ Good morning, Billy. You may give me a 
peck of sweet potatoes,” she began. 

Billy was old and clumsy, and deliberate in 
pulling out and filling his measure. 

“ How’s your folks this morning ^ ” he inquired 
affably. 

“ Very well, thank you. What else have you 
got ? ” Sally pushed back her breeze blown 
hair from her warm brow and peered into the 
back of the peddler’s cart. 

Billy paused in extolling his wares to survey 
her with leisurely, unemotional approval. “There 
don’t nobody need ter ask after your health,” 
he commented. “I never see yer look better. 
Them mush melons is ten cent each. You got 
th’ advantage of yer husband fer sure. Last 
time I seen William Van Besten I thought he 
was a lookin’ terrible peaked. Folks is all 
talkin’ about how bad he looks. He’s got a 
miserable down in the mouth look ter him. An’ 
he’s growed thin. There ain’t hardly no more 
to him than what there is ter his shadder.” 

“ Let me see one of those nutmeg graters,” 
Sally demanded in a hard voice. 

Billy handed it down to her. “ I guess that 
Civic Building Committe’s give him no end er 


THE JUDGES OPINION 


77 

bother. Some folks is terrible down on him fer 
the way he’s been handlin’ it.” 

“ Mrs. Haselton wants a box of baking pow- 
der,” said Sally. 

There was no use trying to forget. When 
Billy O. had gone his way, Sally carried the 
brush broom and the rake back to the tool-house 
and went soberly upstairs to her room. The 
exhileration of the morning had departed. She 
no longer felt any heart for cleaning dooryards. 
What could she do to extricate herself and William 
from this bondage What could she best do 
for William .? That had become the important 
question. For she perceived now that she had 
always regarded only one side of the situation — 
her own. She had selfishly ignored William’s 
side. She felt eager to make him amends, only 
he must never know that she felt that way. She 
did not believe that vexations connected with 
the Civic Building were making him ill, unhappy, 
to a degree noticeable even to his indifferent 
acquaintance. There must be another cause. 
Perhaps he had come to care for somebody else, 
somebody who satisfied him better than she could 
ever have done. It was undeniably hard on a 
man to be married and yet unmarried. Could he 
be expected to live out his life without companion- 
ship, chained by a nominal bond f Once, the 
recollection of his probable discomfort in his big 
dreary house had given her an ignoble kind of 
gratification. She had wanted him to realize 


78 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

what he had lost in her. But now she was filled 
with compassion and compunction. She felt a 
great desire to stand well in his eyes, to prove 
herself not utterly cold and selfish. Yes, she 
would take the blame upon herself, although the 
fault was not wholly hers. Why had he never come 
to her A word, horrid to her, a word which 
she associated with unwholesome, unclassed people 
with whom she, Sally Haselton, could not possibly 
have anything in common, kept coming to her 
mind. Divorce. She and William might be 
divorced. Then he could marry that other woman. 
Perhaps, considering the circumstances, a legal 
separation without publicity could be effected. 
Sally knew herself ignorant of the law. She 
must ask some one. There was old Judge 
Burrall, up in Kirton, whom she had known 
slightly all her life. He was no longer in active 
practice, but his old clients still sought him upon 
occasion, and she felt sure that he would be 
willing to advise her for her family’s sake. Or 
she might go to Mr. Horace Adams, who had an 
excellent reputation as a young lawyer of promise. 
But the thought of consulting him was repugnant, 
because he was a friend and contemporary of 
William’s. It seemed easier to appeal to an old 
man like Judge Burrall. She nerved herself for 
any horrid experience, provided that it assured 
William’s contentment. If divorce was the only 
way she would go through with it, whatever her 
family thought. The one intolerable thing would 


THE JUDGFS OPINION 


79 


be to remain a clog upon William. As she faced 
herself in the mirror, Sally’s hazel eyes were 
brilliant with heroic determination. Then the 
red lips quivered. The eyes could no longer 
see their reflection in the glass. 

Annie Haselton, running upstairs for something, 
looked in upon Sally in a friendly way, then 
paused in astonishment. Her cheerful look 
changed to dismay. “ Sally, dear, what is the 
matter ? ” she asked solicitously. 

For Sally was crying. Her tell-tale handker- 
chief, moist and crumpled, betrayed her. So 
did her face. 

‘‘ Gracious, Annie, I didn’t know you were 
there!” she exclaimed. 

Annie advanced in subdued dismay. What 
is it?” 

“ There’s nothing the matter. Nothing what- 
ever,” Sally assured her crossly. ‘^Gracious, Annie ! 
Don’t look so solemn. Can’t I cry if I want to ? ” 

‘‘ It’s not a bit like you,” Annie said. 

“ What of that ? ” Sally wiped her eyes reso- 
lutely and flung down the wet handkerchief. 
‘‘ Do you suppose there ever was a woman in the 
world who didn’t cry sometime ? ” she demanded. 

Annie was regarding the crisp white billows of 
Millie’s wedding dress. The room was strewn 
with bits of the mull. “ You poor dear girl,” 
Annie said, with warm sympathy. “ You never 
do give way. It’s awfully good of you to make 
that dress. I know just how you must feel.” 


8o AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


‘‘ No it isn’t,” Sally said aggressively. “ I 
like to do it.” It was very exasperating to feel 
that whatever she said or did not say, Annie 
would go on believing that she was crying senti- 
mentally at thoughts recalled by the wedding 
dress. “ Oh, Annie,” she cried. “ Thank you 
very much, but I do wish you wouldn’t be 
sympathetic.” 

At which Annie left the room in some indig- 
nation. 

In a few minutes, Sally came downstairs wearing 
her hat and jacket. “ Do you want to take a 
walk with Aunt Sally, Joe ? ” she asked, and the 
boy galloped off for his hat. “ I’m just going 
over to the postoffice to leave word for Perry to 
call for me in the morning.” Sally explained. 
“ Can I do anything for you up in Kirton ? ” 

“ No, thank you.” Annie spoke in the reserved 
tone of displeasure, but at Sally’s deprecating 
little look, she sweet-naturedly relented. “ I’ll 
have breakfast for you a little earlier,” she prom- 
ised amiably. 

To Judge Burrall, reading a not exciting novel 
in his office sitting-room, life was for the moment 
rather stagnant. Usually he was well satisfied 
with its dispensations, secretly priding himself 
upon the sense and foresight with which he had 
withdrawn form his extensive Kirton practice, 
while still able to enjoy existence. Some business 
he retained to keep the days from dragging, and 
he loved his leisure and had resources to fill it. 


THE JUDGES OPINION 


8i 


The Judge was fond of considering himself a 
practical philosopher, a man withdrawn by his 
own will from the rushing current of workaday 
life to a quiet and pleasant cove whence he could 
look out on the affairs of other men and women 
with kind, wise tolerance, lending now and then 
a helpful hand. It is true that he sometimes 
happened to feel a trifle lonely, but then he bade 
himself remember how many cares and anxieties 
he had escaped by never marrying. 

‘‘ What rubbish people write, and read,” Judge 
Burrall soliloquized, laying down his book. He 
yawned. The house which he had built on the 
outskirts of Kirton, not far from William Van 
Besten’s, was so quiet that the orange horns of 
the trumpet creeper, dropping on the floor of the 
porch, made sounding thuds. He heard the 
trolley stop at the corner, and the jangle of its 
bell as it started on again. 

Sally Van Besten stepped off the trolley, and 
came in her alert quick-stepping way to the 
Judge’s door. She gave a quick, resolute pull 
to the bell-knob, hoping fervently that she would 
find the Judge alone. Her heart beat so vehem- 
ently at the ordeal before her, that she thought she 
could hear it. The giant trumpet creeper draping 
the Judge’s porch, drooped so low that she had 
to brush against its heavy red and orange clusters. 
The deep-roofed shingled cottage had an attractive, 
peaceful look. 

The portly, elderly Judge himself opened the 


82 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


door to his visitor. Urbanely courteous, he 
invited her to walk in. Sally had never before 
entered his house. 

“ I don’t believe you remember me, Judge 
Burrall. I’m Mrs. Van Besten, Sally Haselton,” 
she hastened to explain herself. 

“ Why, of course, of course,” he responded 
heartily. “ My dear young lady, I beg your 
pardon. I knew there was something familiar 
about you. It’s the Haselton look.” He gave 
her a hearty handshake. There was something 
composing to her in his big, masculine reserve, in 
the kindly expression of his strong-featured, 
rather florid face. He passed a strong, well- 
tended hand across his thin silvery hair. 

“Judge Burrall, I’ve come to consult you 
professionally,” Sally began precipitately. 

“ Yes,” said the Judge serenely. “ But first, 
my dear young lady, you must let me give you a 
glass of wine.” 

Sally did not want the wine, but somehow the 
Judge’s urbanity made it seem rude, rough, to 
rush at once into business. So she docilely sipped 
her old port, and answered his courteous inquiries, 
and constrained herself to talk about affairs in 
general, and to postpone her own. She could not 
bear her gloves and took them off. Her jacket 
felt oppressive and she threw it back. The Judge’s 
shrewd eyes under his gray thickets of eye-brows, 
noticed her suppressed excitement and admired 
her plucky surface composure. 


THE JUDGFS OPINION 


33 


“ You wanted to consult me about something ? ’’ 
he asked finally. 

‘‘ Yes, I do.’’ Sally hesitated. “ What I have 
to say is strictly confidential,” she told him. 

“ That is a matter of course,” the Judge said 
gravely. His genial sociability gave place to 
professional gravity — attentive, inquiring, impres- 
sive. He felt very kindly toward this attractive, 
clear-eyed young woman, whose independent bear- 
ing contradicted so oddly the feminine appeal 
of her troubled face. “ What can I do for you, 
Mrs. Van Besten ^ ” 

Sally hesitated. “ Perhaps you know that Mr. 
Van Besten and I are separated.” She spoke in 
a low breathless way. 

“ So I have heard.” 

Everybody knew the horrid story. 

“ Judge Burrall, I want to ask — couldn’t we — 
I mean isn’t there any way of getting out of being 
married except by divorce ^ ” She asked. “ Under 
the circumstances, I mean, of course.” 

“ Divorce is of course the only legal dissolution 
of the bond.” The Judge thought it an unneces- 
sary question, even for a woman, but he was 
patient with her feminine inconsequence. “ To 
what circumstances do you refer ^ ” 

“ You see, it isn’t as though we ever had lived to- 
gether,” she said. “We separated on our wedding 
day just two or three hours after we were married.” 

“ Do I understand that you desire a legal 
separation ” he asked. 


84 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


“ I don’t want any horrid publicity if I can 
help it,” she told him earnestly; ‘‘or to set people 
talking, or to see it in the papers, you know.” 
She looked at him with hopeful, flattering appeal 
to his masculine wisdom. 

“ It is difficult to avoid some publicity in matters 
of this kind.” The Judge rested his elbows on 
the arms of his chair, and laid the tips of his 
shapely fingers together. “ Let me see. How 
long have you been married, Mrs. Van Besten ? 
Three years. Is that possible How time slips 
away to be sure!” He watched her sorrowful, 
averted face. He noticed the smooth, bright 
hair under her tasty hat, and the nervous little 
hand toying with the wineglass, and found this 
throbbing, live situation more interesting than 
the plot of his novel. “ Why are you no longer 
content to go on as you have been doing all this 
time ^ ” he asked. “ Have there been any new 
developments in the situation recently ” 

Sally colored hotly at the question. “ I have 
come to think that it would be wiser to make the 
separation legal,” she said in a low voice. 

“ Why ” the Judge asked gently. “ Suppose 
you enlighten me, Mrs. Van Besten. To begin 
with, what was the original cause of trouble ? ” 
Sally looked vaguely all around the room as 
though she were searching for the why herself. 
He saw her lips grow unsteady. 

“ Believe me that you can trust me. I can 
advise you so much more understandingly if 


THE JUDGE'S OPINION 85 

you’ll make a clean breast of it.” The Judge 
spoke persuasively. “ Tell me.” 

He waited patiently, until his steady, expectant 
gaze summoned back her attention. Her resolute 
composure broke. Impulsively she screened her 
face with both hands. “ Oh, don’t ask me! I 
can’t tell you. It seems too foolish, too trivial.” 
She controlled herself, and took down her hands, 
and looked at him tragically. “ It was all my 
fault.” 

“ Yes ? ” The Judge’s colorless, unshocked 
tone steadied her nerves. The admission was a 
relief to her. Pity, sympathy, her pride repelled 
but she quite longed to submit herself, to this 
calm impartial judgment. 

“ Nobody believes that,” she went on. “ Every- 
body seems to think that it must have been his 
fault. But it wasn’t. It was mine in the first 
place. That’s why I think he ought not to have 
to go on bearing the consequences any longer. 
I think he ought to be set free.” 

“ Has Mr. Van Besten intimated in any way 
that he desires to be set free ? ” the Judge asked. 

“ No, oh no. He never would.” 

Yet you appear to be thinking of this for his 
sake rather than for your own.” 

“ Yes, I am.” She spoke proudly, enacting 
meanwhile a little mental drama in which William 
was to be forced to admire, to respect, to at least 
a faint renewal of regret. The Judge regarded 
her reflectively from under his bristling brows. 


86 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


Impatient Sally thought that he was a great 
while making up his mind to say something, but 
the Judge was persuaded that he could not 
speak to much purpose just then. Perhaps he 
was keen enough to perceive her mood of rampant 
self-sacrifice for his desire seemed to be to secure 
her time for pause. 

“ Mrs. Van Besten, you must not let yourself 
act too hastily in this matter,” he said finally. 
“ You probably know that your husband has 
given dissatisfaction in some quarters in connec- 
tion with our new Civic Building. Nobody can 
possibly accuse him of not acting in an upright 
and honorable manner,” the Judge spoke in 
impersonal exposition, “but he may have been 
somewhat dogmatic in his methods. He has 
certainly antagonized some of his associates and 
they have said some rather harsh things of him.” 

“ Yes, I know,” Sally said. “ It’s very unjust.” 

“ Probably it is. Now, Mrs. Van Besten, 
you can readily see that this is a particularly 
inopportune moment for calling public attention 
to your husband’s unfortunate private affairs. 
On this account, it seems to me that you ought 
to defer the action you contemplate.” 

“ But I thought he would be happier. Then 
he — he could marry again if he wished.” 

“ Is there another woman in the case ? ” 

Sally looked at him in mortified protest. “ How 
should I know .? It wouldn’t be so very aston- 
ishing, I suppose. Don’t misunderstand me. 


THE JUDGE^S OPINION 87 

Judge Burrall. Mr. Van Besten would never 
do anything dishonorable,” she added quickly. 

“ You respect your husband,” the Judge said 
quietly. “ So do I. Fve always had the greatest 
respect for that young man. This foolish gossip 
will pass by in time. It will pass by. Mrs. 
Van Besten, allow me to counsel an interview 
between you and your husband. Will you author- 
ize me to see him, and try to arrange one ? ” 

“ Oh, no. Please don’t think of it. I would 
much rather not. No.” She spoke decidedly. 

He did not persist. “ You want my profes- 
sional opinion. It is this. Take no steps at all 
for the present. Wait patiently a little longer. 
My dear Mrs. Van Besten, believe me, half the 
misery in this world is brought about by precipi- 
tancy. People will act before they have fully 
weighed the consequences of their acts.” 

‘‘ I suppose so,” Sally admitted. She looked 
depressed. 

‘‘ You must give me a chance to think this 
matter over. I promise to give it my best atten- 
tion,” he said encouragingly. “ Do nothing rash. 
Wait.” 

Sally sighed. To wait was so much harder than 
to do something, anything. It was as though 
cold water had been thrown upon her heroic 
resolve to vindicate herself in William’s eyes. 
She rose unsatisfied. “ If you really think it would 

harm Mr. Van Besten to do anything now ” 

I do most assuredly.” the Judge said decidedly. 


88 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


He shook hands and went to the door with her. 
“ Drop in whenever you like and we’ll talk it 
over again,” he said. 

The brief, unexpected glimpse of young, restless 
longings had stirred in him a strong desire to help. 
He stood under the drooping trumpet creeper 
and watched her until she had disappeared in 
the trolley. Then he went thoughtfully back to 
his office and lighted a cigar. “ But I wish she’d 
told me what it was all about,” he muttered. 


CHAPTER VII 


WILLIAM S HOLIDAY 



SABBATH-LIKE silence reigned in the 


TX Van Besten house. William yawned as he 
lay apathetically in his four poster bed and 
reflected drearily that this was Labor Day and 
that the store would be closed. What should he 
do with his holiday .? He disliked the thought 
of it, and would have preferred the routine of 
every day. He tried in vain to prolong his 
morning nap. One of his cats stole upstairs 
and stood in the shadowy doorway of his chamber, 
arching her back and purring loudly in amiable 
reminder that it was past breakfast time. William 
rose and dressed and went down stairs. He 
stepped heavily about the kitchen, lighting the 
fire, filling the teakettle, preparing his breakfast 
in clumsy, masculine fashion. It was charac- 
teristic of William that he set the dining-room 
table carefully for himself, spreading the linen 
cloth neatly, and fetching a single plate and cup 
and saucer from the fine old china in the butler’s 
pantry. It never occurred to him to save trouble 


89 


90 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

by breakfasting in the kitchen. His two yellow 
and white cats followed him about as he made 
his preparations. Perhaps they, too, hungered 
for human companionship. They rubbed against 
his legs and purred amiably up at him. Before 
he sat down, William filled a pudding dish with 
bread and milk and set it upon the kitchen hearth 
for them. 

When he had finished his simple breakfast, he 
washed up the few dishes. It may be that he 
was less particular than Sally his wife would 
have been, that he forgot to brush up the crumbs 
under the table and the coffee pot remained on 
the back of the stove unemptied, but according 
to his masculine light, William was conscientious. 
The yellow cats sat up and watched him as they 
licked the milk from their whiskers with rough 
pink tongues. 

When William had cleared away, he returned 
to the dining-room and examined critically the 
time-mellowed surface of the mahogany table 
that had replaced the table of oak. A hot dish 
had here and there inflicted a blur. William 
decided that the table needed rubbing up. He 
provided himself with linseed oil, which, with 
masculine disregard of the fitness of things, he 
poured into one of the best cups. He hunted out 
a soft tattered towel and set to work. The 
exercise afforded a kind of moral relief to the un- 
rest which possessed him. The fine-grained wood 
responded to his rubbing with softly ruddy 


WILLIAM^S HOLIDAT 91 

gleams. It felt like satin to his finger-tips. He 
could see his countenance oddly distorted in its 
shining surface. “ It’s a beautiful table,” Wil- 
liam said aloud to himself. The table always 
made him think of Sally. Sally had wanted it 
and for Sally he had bought it and the fine old 
Heppelwhite chairs now ranged against the dining- 
room walls. He wished that she could see them, 
now that he had rubbed them all up. At the 
time of his marriage he had not been interested 
in antiques. He had known very little about 
them. Beginning with the andirons that Sally 
had wanted for the living-room fireplace, he had 
bought one article after another because it was 
old. Sally would like it. Some day she would 
come and then she would know what to do with 
it. His hope of his wife’s coming had died long 
ago. He knew now that she would not come, 
but his interest in his collection persisted. His 
collection had enriched his mind with human lore 
and the atmosphere of his home with memories. 
He mused over the dead men and women who 
had once used them. They were a shadowy 
company hovering about his shut-up rooms. He 
felt strange sympathy for them, strange envy 
sometimes, because they had unravelled the 
mysterious coil of human life. They assuaged 
his loneliness. At first Sally had dominated the 
collection, but of late the collection had dominated 
William. 

He was breathless and fatigued when he stopped 


92 


AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


rubbing. William had not felt as strong as usual 
of late. 

“ There, I don’t believe I can improve upon 
that.” Gathering up the oil cup and towel, 
William stepped back and surveyed his work 
with satisfaction. He saw a nick in one of the 
massive legs and frowned slightly as he bent to 
examine it. “ Some piece of carelessness for 
which there is no excuse. It can’t be remedied.” 

William sat down and lifted an old mirror to 
his knees and gazed thoughtfully into its age- 
dimmed surface. He softly blew the dust from 
the dimpled cheeks of the Dutch cherubs. The 
old mirror had the fatigued look of an age-dimmed 
eye. William carried it into the parlor and set 
it on the long haircloth sofa. He wandered 
dreamily among his possessions. Among these 
waifs and strays of vanished homes which he had 
laboriously brought together. When would they 
be dispersed again I 

The boisterous toot-tooting of a horn roused 
him from his musings. He could hear the thud- 
ding of an automobile. It stopped and in a 
minute he heard a clatter of steps, cautious 
laughter, ejaculations, chattering voices. The 
doorbell rang. He went to answer it. He was 
so deliberate that a young man of the party 
raised the horn to his lips and blew a peremptory 
blast. 

“ Now, Harry, don’t. You might offend him,” 
William heard as he opened the door. From a 


WILLI AM^S HOLIDAY 


93 

party of four, a pretty-self-assured woman stepped 
forward as spokesman. 

“ Is this Mr. Van Besten ? ” she inquired, with 
an ingratiating smile. ‘‘ 

“ It is,” he said gravely. 

“ I do hope you’ll forgive us for taking you 
by storm,” she began volubly. It’s really 
outrageous of us, but we do so want to see your 
collection. We heard you had such a fine col- 
lection of antiques. Would you be so good as 
to let us see it It’s a great deal to ask, I know.” 
She smiled coquettishly up into William’s atten- 
tive eyes with a confidence that no man would 
find it in his heart to be churlish to her. 

“ Will you walk in ^ ” he asked courteously; 
and the three ladies, the young man, did so with 
alacrity. Coming out of the September sunshine, 
they stood subdued, uncertain in the darkened 
parlor. 

“ Isn’t it ghostly ? ” one of them whispered, 
but William overheard. 

“ I’ll open the blinds,” he said. 

The sunshine streamed in, revealing unkindly 
the dust and defacements of William’s collection. 
“ I have not undertaken to arrange things yet,” 
he explained. At present they are scattered all 
over the house just as it happens. 

“ Isn’t it fascinating ? My dear, will you 
look at these Heppelwhite chairs ? ” Their shrill, 
fulsome compliments rang through the rooms. 
The pretty leader of the expedition was interested 


94 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

in the collection, but she was more interested in 
its sedate possessor. His passivity lured her to 
awaken some hint of admiration in him. She 
introduced herself and her companions and 
William bowed gravely to each. 

“ This is a genuine Sheraton. I found it in 
Albany.” He laid his hand affectionately on a 
spindle-legged card table. 

It’s too lovely for anything. Isabel, isn’t 
this card table sweet ? ” Her tone was effusive, 
but she paid but little attention to the table. 

“ Oh, I wish you’d let me have those andirons! 
They’re too delightful with those great brass 
heads.” The speaker appealed to the others. 
“ Won’t they be just the thing for my big fireplace .? 
Mr. Van Besten couldn’t you be induced to part 
with them ? I’ll pay you anything in reason.” 

“ The andirons are not for sale,” said William. 
He disliked the pleading coquetry with which this 
impertinent girl looked at him. He wished that 
these intruders would go away. He disliked 
their glib way of appraising his treasures. He 
stood with bored patience while they exclaimed 
and admired. 

They all shook hands with him, lingering at the 
door to thank him profusely for his somewhat 
grudging courtesy. Mrs. Webster turned back 
to him after she had said goodbye once. “My 
mother and I are always at home on Wednesday 
evening. We’d be so pleased to see you if you’d 
care to call.” 


WILLIAM^S HOLIDAT 


95 

“ Thank you, but I seldom make calls,’’ William 
said bluntly. 

He was glad when they were gone, yet somehow 
they had dispelled serenity. Restlessly he wan- 
dered about the house. He went upstairs and 
opened one bed-room door after another and 
glanced into the dim, musty chambers. Then 
he went into his own room. On the high chill 
marble mantel stood two old-fashioned daguerro- 
types in faded velvet cases, portraits of his dead 
father and mother. Between them, in a neat 
frame, stood a photograph of Sally, given him 
when they were engaged. With a hand resting 
on either side of the little row of pictures, William 
stood before the mantel for a long time. Then 
frowning defiance of untoward circumstance, 
he turned away and went downstairs. 

He was making notes in his memorandum 
book with newspaper clippings and auction 
catalogues spread about him on the dining table, 
when he was interrupted by a knock on the side 
door. He opened it to Mr. Elbert Moore. 

“Ah, Bert, walk in. Sit down,” he said 
cordially. 

Mr. Elbert Moore, his friend and contempo- 
rary, was a young hardware merchant. They 
had grown up together in the Kirton schools. 
Mr. Moore glanced at the papers strewn under 
the lamp. 

“ Hard at work, eh .? Say, William, don’t you 
get mighty lonesome here sometimes ? ” 


96 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“ I’m used to being alone,” William answered. 

“ You’ve been losing flesh,” Mr. Moore com- 
mented candidly. ‘‘Are you feeling all right?” 

“ Pretty well.” William Van Besten detested 
personal allusions. He fetched a box of cigars 
from the sideboard and held it out to his guest. 

“ Thanks, I don’t mind if I do.” The two 
men smoked and talked of business, of people 
they knew, in what William felt to be a warming 
sociability. He was glad to have his solitude 
thus invaded. The fact that Elbert Moore had 
cared enough for a chat with him to take the 
trouble to call made him unbend from his usual 
stiffness, grow genial. 

It came about quite naturally for Mr. Moore 
to speak of the Civic Building. The two men 
were members of the Executive Committee which 
was superintending its erection, William as chair- 
man. The citizens of Kirton were deeply inter- 
ested in their fine new Civic Building, which they 
had been spurred to attain by an offer of half 
the necessary funds from a multi-millionaire. 
The appropriation for the other half had been 
fought by many, who grumbled against increased 
taxation and declared that Kirton had no need 
of so costly a public building. “ There isn’t 
enough public spirit in Kirton to raise a flagpole,” 
said Mr. Moore. “ Well, it ought not to be 
long now before we’re through with our job.” 

William nodded. 

“ Strange how many delays we’ve had from 


WILLIAM^S HOLIDAY 


97 


first to last. I tell you, folks are grumbling like 
the deuce because it isn’t done and we in it long 
ago.” 

William settled back unconcernedly in his 
chair. “ Grumbling is always to be expected. 
It is the chronic attitude of ignorant outsiders to 
wonder why things aren’t managed differently.” 

“ Well, it has taken a good deal longer than 
any of us expected,” said Mr. Moore. 

The two smoked, thinking of the delays that 
had beset them — delays on the part of contractors, 
constructors, unexpected strikes. 

“Anything special to come up before the Com- 
mittee next Thursday ? ” Mr. Moore asked the 
question in too casual a manner. Somehow his 
host felt a motive in it. 

“ We have to decide what we’ll do about the 
interior decorations.” 

“ That’s so. Why it could be begun very 
soon, couldn’t it? Have you any special plan 
in mind ? ” 

“ No,” said William. “ I suppose we’ll receive 
bids.” 

“ Oh, what’s the use of going through all that 
again ? ” Mr. Moore spoke energetically. “It 
only means a lot more delay. I believe we’d 
get along just as well and a good deal quicker 
by engaging the services of a reliable firm.” 

A glance of comprehension rose to the surface in 
William Van Besten’s eyes, then sank out of sight. 
His warm pleasant glow of friendliness cooled. 


98 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

His friend was not seeking merely his compan- 
ionship. He had brought along an axe to grind. 

“ Have another cigar, Bert,” he said, pushing 
over the box. 

Elbert Moore selected one in an absent-minded 
way. He was plainly not thinking of the cigar 
as he rolled it in his fingers. He seemed to 
overcome some reluctance before he spoke. 

“ See here, William, what about Ed’s firm } ” 

“ Moore & Andrus, up in Albany ” 

“Yes. See here, William, since we’ve chanced 
to get on the subject — I don’t mind mentioning 
to you — ^just between us, of course — that I’d be 
glad for them to have it.” 

He scrutinized William, whose expression gave 
no hint of opinion. 

“ They’re doing splendidly, but of course it’s a 
young firm yet. A job like this is what they 
want to give ’em impetus.” William was atten- 
tive, but non-committal. 

“ Of course I wouldn’t want them to lay a 
finger on it if they weren’t thoroughly competent,” 
Mr. Moore spoke warmly. “ I’m as anxious as 
anybody to do whatever is going to give the best 
results.” 

“ Of course, that’s what we all have to con- 
sider,” William said. 

Mr. Moore told himself, with an irritation 
which he tried to hide, that if it had not been 
for his support, William Van Besten would 
probably never have been elected chairman of 


WILLIAM^S HOLIDAT 


99 


the Executive Committee. He needn’t act so 
aloof. People had to stand together in this world. 

“ But Ed those fellows up there would take 
a real personal interest in doing a first-rate job 
for Kirton. They’d do well by us. I’m sure 
they would.” 

“ I don’t doubt that,” said William. “ I 
understand they’re making a very good reputation 
for themselves.” 

“ Tip-top. Say, William, perhaps you could 
suggest them to the Committee on Thursday ” 

William shook his head. “ That isn’t the way.” 

“ How then .? ” Mr. Moore’s voice was restive. 

“ I think we should proceed exactly as we 
have done in all the other decisions. Ask for 
competitive estimates — compare, study them, and 
then decide.” 

“ Yes, but all that takes time. It takes such a 
lot of time,” Mr. Moore expostulated. “ I tell 
you, we’ve got to hurry things up. You’ve no 
idea how folks are grumbling.” 

“ That can’t be helped,” William said decidedly. 
‘‘ We have no right to sacrifice anything to haste.” 

“ We must do what you think is wisest, of 
course.” With an effort, Mr. Moore cleared a 
frown from his brow. It seemed to him that 
William Van Besten was showing himself dis- 
tinctly unfriendly, but delicacy forbade insistence. 
He was bitterly dissatisfied with himself for 
betraying eagerness when he had fully meant to 
content himself with the lightest suggestions. 


100 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


The two talked no more about the Civic Build- 
ing, but the subject had left a rankle. Constraint 
hung over them. When he had finished his 
cigar, Elbert Moore went away. 

William, left alone, left his catalogues after 
awhile. He walked slowly around the house 
and stood at the front gate. Heavy sweetness 
floated over him from the syringo bushes, which 
his mother had planted when he was a little boy. 
The sweetness tantalized him, filled him with 
desire. In the thickets of the shrubbery he heard 
the sleepy love twitter of birds. Happy, mated 
birds. William Van Besten drew in a long 
breath. His hand, resting on top of the iron gate, 
twitched. 

He looked toward Kirton. Over Kirton hung 
a soft luminosity from the lights in the streets, in 
the homes. Over there, his eyes turned toward 
the spot, he knew a quiet little house where one 
was expectant, hopeful, of his coming. There 
soft hands were eager to grasp his hands. Stand- 
ing there solitary, in the throbbing fragrance of 
the summer night, William Van Besten closed 
his eyes dreamily, and in his mental vision he 
saw a face — a pretty, tender face — grow eager in 
welcome. Behind him lay his desolate, lonely 
house. The discord Elbert Moore had intro- 
duced still lingered in its atmosphere. 

William looked up grimly at the distant stars. 
He straightened his shoulders as though to throw 
off an irksome load. He was a man, a young 


WILLIAM^S HOLIDAY 


lOI 


man. Why should he accept dreariness, abne- 
gation, for his portion, when a feast, a warm, 
bright feast, was already spread for him ? While 
this pulsing desire throbbed through his veins, to 
do that seemed the part of a fool. 

With all the might of his man’s will, strongly, 
William followed the call. 


CHAPTER VIII 

A QUESTION OF EQUITY 

M r. van BESTEN arrived at his store at 
precisely half-past eight, and gave his 
accustomed scrutiny to matters in general, before 
proceeding to his office. He had a deliberate way 
of going from department to department, asking 
the clerk in charge of each a dry, pertinent question 
or so, and keeping himself fully informed as to 
the pettiest details of his big business. His 
employes were inclined to grumble among them- 
selves at this habit of his, which nevertheless held 
them properly subordinated. They respected Mr. 
Van Besten, but they felt no sentimental attach- 
ment to him as he very well knew. 

The clerk at the notions counter, a slender, 
rather colorless young fellow, engaged at this 
early hour in regulating the stock in his charge, 
was keenly conscious of his employer’s approach. 
His movements became exasperatingly awkward, 
his fingers seemed transformed all to thumbs. 
His unwary elbow sent a large paper box off the 
counter, from which dozens of spools of cotton 
102 


A QUESTION OF EQUITY 103 

thread rolled in all directions. Mr. Van Besten 
paused at the notions counter and waited in an 
attitude of impassive disapproval until the flushed, 
embarassed young fellow had gathered up the 
spools. Then he looked at him severely. 

“ You were not here yesterday afternoon, I 
believe ^ ” 

“ No, sir.” The boy’s voice betrayed per- 
turbation. His employer’s look demanded expla- 
nation. “ I was obliged to go out of town for a 
few hours.” 

“ You were obliged to go What do you mean 
by that ? ” Mr. Van Besten’s voice was cuttingly 
incredulous. “ Was there any obligation upon 
you to attend the football game .? ” 

He forestalled the excuses ready to stammer 
forth. “ I happen to know that you were there.” 

The younger man was silent. 

When you asked me yesterday morning if 
you could absent yourself from business for half 
a day, I told you no. I saw no reason why I 
should make you a present of the time for which 
I pay you. Nevertheless, you deliberately disre- 
garded my decision and took your afternoon’s 
amusement.” 

“ I’d arranged to go. I didn’t think a few 
hours like that would make such difference. 
I’ve never lost an hour before since I’ve been 
working for you, Mr. Van Besten.” 

“ Why should you Do you take that for a 

merit to yourself.^ I consider that your time 


104 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

belongs to me, that you have no right to dispose 
of an hour of your working day without my 
permission.” 

The cold voice cut the youth’s sensibilities. 
His half defiant, half pleading gaze wavered 
before Mr. Van Besten’s unsparing directness. 
How could he set forth all the invincible, invisible 
pulls that had led him forth to pleasuring He 
perceived no fellow feeling in his employer to 
which he could appeal. He took refuge in 
helpless silence, which had appearance of sulkiness. 

“ While you are in my employ you cannot dis- 
regard my orders with impunity,” Mr. Van Besten 
said austerely. ‘‘ I want the services of no one 
upon whom I cannot depend. I will dispense with 
your services after this week.” 

The young clerk’s lips twitched slightly, but 
he steadied them. Resentment burned in his 
breast against the severity accorded him. He 
knew himself to have done wrong, but he detested 
his judge. “ Very well, Mr. Van Besten,” he 
said, not without manliness. 

William passed on to his office looking very 
grim and austere. He felt that he had adminis- 
tered a much needed lesson to youthful incon- 
sequence, and held himself justified in his severity. 
Yet the short, unpleasant interview had brushed 
the bloom off the morning for him. He believed 
that he had acted wisely, but he had been obliged 
to push down kindlier promptings in order to 
live up to his own standard of business adminis- 


A QUESTION OF EQUITY 105 

tration. He turned to his correspondence and 
dismissed the incident. 

Sally Van Besten visited the store that morning. 
She carried a small package. A suave salesman 
stepped forward to greet her. Fie was a new- 
comer in Kirton and he cherished an ambitious 
intention of becoming indispensable at Van 
Besten’s. He had already seen this lady once or 
twice, but he did not know her name. “ Good 
morning, madam.’’ His suavity had the thick- 
ness of cream. “What can I do for you this 
morning ^ ” 

He listened attentively while she explained her 
errand and his perfunctory good-will gave way 
to perplexity. “ Well, really. I’m afraid that is 
a little too much for me,” he admitted. “ Per- 
haps you’d better see Mr. Van Besten himself 
about it.” 

“ Oh, no, I don’t think it’s necessary to disturb 
Mr. Van Besten,” Sally said quickly. “ I’d 
rather not.” 

The salesman left her no choice. “ He will 
know just what to do,” he said insistently. “ This 
way, if you please, madam.” 

Sally felt constrained to follow or else appear 
singular, as he led the way to William’s office, 
but she was annoyed. 

The office door was open. The salesman 
hesitated deferentially on the threshold before he 
spoke. “ Mr. Van Besten, there’s a lady here 
to see you.” 


io6 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


Mr. Van Besten rose and for an instant looked 
eagerly, expectantly at his wife. 

‘‘ No, I didn’t think it would be necessary to 
interrupt you,” Sally interposed quickly. 

“ She says there’s been a mistake made in 
some dress goods she bought here,” the salesman 
explained. 

“A mistake,” Mr. Van Besten echoed. He 
was still regarding Sally, whose demeanor had a 
somewhat thorny effect of displeasure. 

‘‘ Yes, sir. The lady will explain.” The sales- 
man hurried back to his duties. 

“ Won’t you sit down ? ” asked Mr. Van Besten, 
ceremoniously. 

“ I won’t take up much of your time,” Sally 
said hurriedly, as she accepted a chair. She v as 
bright-eyed, unsmiling; and she looked at him 
very directly with an air of serious business. 

“ You are not disturbing me in the least,” he 
assured her politely. “ Is there anything I can 
do for you ? ” Involuntarily they took a long 
critical look at each other, but each remained 
baffingly impenetrable. She was not too pre- 
occupied to notice that he was looking thin and 
pale, older looking than she had ever seen him. 
With a pang she recognized that he lacked the 
genial air of a man at ease with life. 

To relieve her sense of embarrassment, Sally hur- 
ried into her errand. She glanced at her package. 
‘‘ I bought a linen lawn dress here some time ago. 
Bought it and paid for it and had it sent home.” 


A QUESTION OF EQUITY 107 

“ Yes ? And isn’t it satisfactory ? ” asked the 
young merchant. 

“ Yes, it’s satisfactory, but — ^you see, I had the 
stuff washed and ironed last week before I made 
it up. I thought it was better to do that because 
linen lawn’s so apt to shrink, you know.” 

“ Yes.” William agreed as though he knew 
all about such matters. 

“ I never unfolded it until it came home from 
the washerwoman’s, and then there seemed to 
be such a quantity that I measured, and I found 
that you’d sent me twenty-eight yards instead of 
the fourteen yards I bought.” 

“ Very careless, certainly,” said William. He 
began to look genuinely interested. At first he 
had seemed to be listening merely from courtesy. 
“ Do you know which of my clerks sold the goods 
to you ? ” 

Sally hesitated. “ It’s so long since I bought 
it. I might make a mistake. I’d rather not say.” 

“ I’d like to have you remember if you can.” 
William drew a bit of paper toward him and 
picked up a pencil. “ When did you say you 
made this purchase ” 

I don’t remember the exact date.” She 
flushed guiltily, conscious of prevarication. It 
would have been so easy to have found out all 
about it by hunting up the item in her carefully 
kept account book. But shr had intentionally 
refrained from doing so. 

‘‘Isn’t there some way by which you can recall 


io8 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

it ? ’’ he persisted. “ I should like to investigate 
this matter.” 

She disliked his expression of severe intention. 
“ That’s just what I don’t want you to do. I don’t 
want to get anybody into trouble. Why, I’ve 
been advised two or three times not to bring back 
the goods at all; just to let it go. People seem 
to think that it’s too small a loss for Van Besten’s 
to mind. They tell me that merchants hate to 
have such little mistakes revived to make trouble 
and necessitate altering their ledgers and things.” 
She looked at him very earnestly, and it seemed to 
her that he had no business to remain so stern 
and immovable. Impatience against him rose 
within her. “ Of course I didn’t want to keep 
the stuff. I felt that I had to bring it back, but 
I should be very, very sorry if my doing so got the 
poor clerk into trouble.” 

“ No poor clerk about it,” William said decided- 
ly. “ I don’t think you quite understand this 
matter.” He warmed to the argument, forgetting 
all else. “ You see, Mrs. — ” William paused, 
suddenly recalled. Then he went on. “ You 
see, there’s a principle involved, an abstract 
principle of right and wrong.” 

‘‘ Yes, I suppose so, but then everybody makes 
a mistake once in awhile. I suppose you might 
possibly do a careless thing yourself upon occa- 
sion.” She spoke rather aggressively, for she 
found William’s judicial attitude irritating. 

She felt that he regarded her feminine inconse- 


A QUESTION OF EQUITY 109 

quence with something like lenient contempt. 
“ Listen,” he said, leaning forward impressively. 
“ I am sure you will admit that whichever one of 
my clerks sold you the goods was not giving his 
undivided attention to business as he should have 
been doing, or he never would have measured off 
a double quantity. I confess I see no reason 
for slurring over his gross carelessness. But 
that is not all. I have another man in my employ 
whose duty it is to verify every purchase with the 
slip he receives with it before it is shipped to the 
customer. Why didn’t he discover this error 
How did he come to send out twenty-eight yards 
of material with a check calling for fourteen ? 
Isn’t it clear that he never took the trouble to 
remeasure ? Can I afford to pass over such 
things 

“ But perhaps such a mistake has never oc- 
curred before,” Sally suggested diffidently. 

“ I sincerely hope it doesn’t occur very often,” 
William said grimly. 

“ Can you trace it back ? ” she asked. 

‘‘ That is what I shall endeavor to do.” 

‘‘ Oh, I wish I hadn’t tried to be honest!” 
she cried impetuously. ‘‘I almost wish I’d kept 
the goods.” 

“ Goods that don’t belong to you ? ” William 
smiled and looked more genial. ‘‘ But I would 
have sent for it. It was certainly very kind of you 
to fetch it up.” He glanced inquiringly at the 
package, but she did not hand it over. Her well 


no AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


rounded, vigorous young figure opposed him 
erectly, and she looked decidedly aggressive. If 
William Avas so devoted to abstract justice, he 
should have it. 

“ I had it all shrunk you know,’’ she reminded 
him. “ I paid two dollars and a half to have that 
done; that is a dollar and a quarter for this piece 
I’m bringing back. I don’t want your goods,” 
she spoke decidedly, ‘‘ but I don’t see any reason 
why I should pay for shrinking it.” 

“ No, but then I’d so much rather you hadn’t 
shrunk it, you know.” William spoke soberly, 
but there was rather a merry look in his eyes. He 
settled himself back in his chair as though he were, 
on the whole, taking pleasure in the interview. 
An agreeable perception came to her that she was 
certainly not boring him. 

“ Of course I never would have had it done if I 
had discovered the mistake in time,” she defended 
herself. t 

‘‘ I could have sold the lawn to much better 
advantage if it hadn’t been washed and all the 
dressing taken out of it,” William went on in his 
deliberate way. “ Now there’s nothing for it 
but to mark down the price and put it on the 
bargain counter. How much did you say you 
paid ? Forty cents a yard .? I doubt if I can get 
more than thirty cents for it now. Moreover, I 
suppose there is rather less of it than there was 
before it was shrunk.” 

“ But that isn’t my fault,” Sally said with spirit. 


A QUESTION OF EQUITY m 

“ It isn’t mine either, is it ? ” he inquired. 
“ We both have suflFered from those we employ.” 

‘‘ But the initial mistake was on your side,” 
she reminded. She had an uncertain impression 
that he was covertly laughing at her. Yet he 
spoke so impressively that she felt perplexedly 
he must be taking the matter seriously. 

“ What would you like me to do about this ? ” 
he asked. 

“ I prefer to leave that entirely to you,” she 
told him primly. 

William looked at her reflectively and she 
could not help wondering if his attention was as 
concentrated upon the linen lawn as it appeared 
to be. Then he smiled and revealed an under- 
current of amusement. She felt absurdly irri- 
tated at her own suspicion that perhaps he had 
been secretly laughing at her throughout the 
interview. She rose quickly. ‘‘ It really isn’t 
of the slightest consequence. I’m in rather a 
hurry.” She laid the package on his desk. 

William’s slight thaw congealed again at her 
change of manner. 

‘‘ Of course it is not proper that you should 
pay for the shrinking. You will allow me to 
refund the amount.” A peculiar expression 
lurked about his lips as he drew a plump Russia 
leather wallet from his pocket and opened it. 
Sally recognized the wallet at once. She had 
given it to him herself as a Christmas present 
in the past time. It occurred to her that the 


1 12 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


wallet had worn better than some other things. 
She stood silently observant while William folded 
a silver quarter neatly within a crisp dollar bill 
and held it out to her. 

“ Thank you/’ she said, accepting it in an 
airily impersonal way that disguised a strong 
reluctance. But this was justice — the justice 
for which he had argued. “ Fm sorry to have 
taken up so much of your time.” 

William was looking at her as though he had 
something yet to say for which it was very difficult 
to find expression. His resolute bearing might 
easily have softened to pleading if he had received 
any encouragement from this rosy young woman 
whose hazel eyes were unusually and brightly 
evasive. He could not perceive the flutter at her 
heart which made it appear desperately necessary 
that she should get herself out of his office without 
delay. There was an instant when their hands 
seemed strongly inclined to stretch out and meet. 
They were held apart by the evil, invisible spirits 
that exult in maintaining discord. 

“ Good morning,” said Sally and walked away 
briskly, without another glance. 

William looked after her thoughtfully and then 
he went back and sat down before his desk, and 
for a long time gave not a thought to his business. 


CHAPTER IX 


WHY SALLY INTRUDED 

G ood morning, everybody/’ Sally said 
brightly, as she came into the dining- 
room. She had the breezy ofF-hand manner of 
one armed against possible remonstrances. 

Her sister-in-law surveyed her with surprise. 
“ Why, Sally, what made you put on your new 
suit this morning .? How beautifully it fits,” 
she added, with quick feminine appreciation of 
Sally’s trim and stylish appearance. 

“Anything I can do for you in Kirton ? ” Sally 
asked, taking her place at the table. 

“ Are you going to Kirton this morning .? ” 
Annie exclaimed. “ Why, how can you ^ I 
thought you had such lots of work on hand just 
now.” She noticed that Sally did not look back 
in her usual straightforward way. 

“ So I have,” Sally answered. “ It’ll have to 
wait, that’s all. I’m not going to sit and sew day 
in and day out for anybody. Flesh and blood 
won’t stand it.” She seemed to be replying less 
to Annie’s speech than to suppressed objections 
of her own against her own decision. 

113 


ii^AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“ What about Mrs. Holt’s brilliantine f ” Mrs. 
Haselton reminded. 

“ Mrs. Holt has two brilliantine dresses already,” 
Sally said quickly. “ The one I made her last 
summer, and the one I made her the summer 
before. Beside, she doesn’t want that new bril- 
liantine to wear. All she wants is to hang it up 
to season in her spare room closet. I certainly 
shan’t stay home for that.” 

“ I shouldn’t think you’d wear that new suit 
just to go shopping in Kirton,” Annie ventured 
to criticise. “ You’ll get the skirt all wrinkled 
sitting in that old mail wagon.” 

Sally paid no attention. She caught hold of 
little Joe, who had climbed down from his chair. 
“Let me take off your bib, honey. My, what 
a sticky kiss! Joey, what do you want Aunt 
Sally to bring you from Kirton ? ” 

Sally started presently in apparent gaiety, with 
a jaunty wave of the hand to her family watching 
her off. But as the mail wagon went on its way, 
her face settled into thoughtfulness. Her spirit 
was depressed as she recalled the work piled up 
in her room waiting for her. The pull upon her 
was a strong one and she was resolute to yield 
to it, but still she was dissatisfied with herself 
for yielding. Somehow it had become necessary 
for her to go to Kirton. What was she going to 
do when she was there, how occupy the long hours 
before Perry would start homeward. She did not 
clearly know. 


WHY SALLY INTRUDED 


115 


The mail wagon had left the quiet country road 
and was rumbling over the cobbled street. Sally 
saw a buggy coming along. It was the identical 
buggy in which once upon a time she had set forth 
with her husband for a new home. William Van 
Besten was driving. Beside him sat a pretty 
young woman apparently addressing him in merry 
expostulation to which he was according close 
attention. Sally would have liked to pretend 
that she did not see William, but pride would not 
allow the pretence. She looked at him directly, 
proudly, unsmilingly, prepared to bow. But 
William never observed her nor did his companion. 
Sally looked quickly past William at the young 
woman chatting with him with such effect of 
familiar, accustomed intercourse. Her attract- 
iveness could not be denied, or that William Van 
Besten seemed fully aware of it. The two in the 
buggy looked smiling and lighthearted as though 
bound for pleasuring. On the whole, Sally felt 
glad to be tucked away so unconspicuously on 
the middle seat of the covered mail wagon. The 
Manorton neighbor who shared the seat gave 
her a sly, interested glance. Sally made herself 
noncommittal to the glance. She felt a bitter 
amusement at herself because she had come up 
to Kirton. To know that she was sure not to 
encounter William brought her a kind of relief. 
Yet his absence emptied Kirton of interest. To 
see him driving away had all the purpose out of 
her coming. She felt suddenly weary, suddenly 


ii() AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


depressed. It was stupid of her to come. It 
would have been so much more sensible to have 
stayed at home and gone on with her work. 
William did look pale and worn and thin. Even 
in her brief glimpse of him she had realized that 
he looked no better, worse rather, than when 
she had been shocked by his appearance the 
day she saw him in his office. She hardened her 
heart against him. He was not feeling too 
badly to be enjoying life it would seem. She 
had not intended to go to Van Besten’s store 
to-day, but there was no reason now why she 
should keep away. 

“ ril get out at Van Besten’s, please,’’ she told 
Perry Herter firmly. She was conscious of playing 
a little part with herself as she climbed out of 
the wagon and went into the store. She stopped 
and puckered her brow as she studied her list 
with an absorbed air. All the time she knew 
that it was really ridiculous to pretend even to 
oneself to have come all the way up to Kirton for 
these remotely needed buttons and tapes. Sally 
felt a little stinging bruise in her self-esteem as 
she walked away from Van Besten’s. 

Mrs. Van Besten went next to a drug store. 
Not the one usually patronized by the Haselton 
family. Mrs. Haselton had requested her to 
buy some benzine for spot cleaning in little Joe’s 
behalf. Sally bought from the drug store two 
bottles precisely wrapped in white paper and 
tied with pink cord. Fifteen minutes later she 


WHY SALLY INTRUDED 


117 

was getting off the trolley at the corner near 
William Van Besten’s house. Her heart was 
beating violently as she pushed open William’s 
gate and entered his yard. William’s mother 
used to have gay delightful flower beds, but 
William had no flowers. The big bare brick 
house had a dismal, inhospitable appearance, 
with all the green shutters closed across the front. 
A stray dog had left muddy tracks all over the 
front veranda. 

Trying to appear more confident than she 
felt, always acutely conscious of some possible 
spectator, Mrs. Van Besten went boldly up to the 
front door and rang the bell. To her own disgust 
she was trembling with nervousness. The ringing 
of the bell was merely an idle form, a sacrifice of 
appearance and the possibility of a charwoman. 
She did not expect it to be answered. She knew 
very well that the house was empty, since William 
was off driving with a pretty woman. Still she 
waited a reasonable time before she hesitatingly 
laid hold of the knob. The door was locked. 
Sally stood there deliberating for several minutes. 
Then she walked up and down the veranda, and 
the sound of her footfall was loud in her 
ears. Presently she sat down close against the 
front door one of the bottles she had brought 
from the drug shop. William would see it when 
he came up the path. But he might fail to do 
so. Men are sometimes so unobservant, and she 
knew that William rarely used his front door. 


11% AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


Sally went back and took the package again. 
She went softly around the house, almost on 
tiptoe, as one who had no right to he there, and 
knocked gently on the side door. One of the 
yellow cats miaued in response, but there was no 
other sound from within. Sally propped up the 
bottle against the side door, sure that William 
could not help finding it there. She meant to 
hurry away now that her errand was accomplished, 
but she did not do so. The place held her as 
with a spell. The plans she had once formed 
for its improvement came back to her mind with 
a sickening flavor of futility. “ I wonder if he’s 
changed things at all. I remember just exactly 
how it looked that day he took me over it. I 
wonder ” 

She looked around her carefully. It was 
impossible that she should be seen from the street, 
and a close board fence screened her from observa- 
tion at the back and side. With her face flushing 
guiltily, and a guilty, troubled look in her hazel 
eyes, Sally stood on tiptoe and ran her hand 
gropingly along the top of the window. Her 
fingers closed over the key lying there. So 
William still kept the key where he always used 
to keep it. Sally looked undecidedly at the 
smooth, use-polished thing lying in her hand. 
Then she put it in the keyhole and turned it, 
and opened the door, and stood on her husband’s 
threshold. How still the house seemed, and 
how dreadfully musty. “ I don’t believe he’s 


WHY SALLY INTRUDED 


119 

aired it out for a month,” she said under her 
breath. She had no business to do it. She knew 
that perfectly as she went stealthily along the 
hall. “This is perfectly horrible of me!” she 
murmured under her breath. The only sound in 
the house except the sound she made was the 
droning tick of the tall hall clock. To her atten- 
tive ears it seemed remonstrant, reproachful, but 
she would not heed. “ What a queer looking 
place,” she said, under her breath. When Wil- 
liam had shown her through his house three years 
ago, it had been furnished, not over abundantly, 
in the prim commonplace way characteristic 
of half a century earlier. Now the rooms were 
crowded uncomfortably full of all kinds of ancient 
furniture. The wide hall was like a lumber room. 
The front door had not been opened for weeks. 
It was barricaded with an array of fireplace 
utensils — andirons with branches of brass which 
had once been burnished bright by careful house- 
wives, but now were lustreless, shovels and tongs 
and bellows ahd other obsolete implements of 
which Sally could not even guess the use. Almost 
holding her breath, Sally stole through the long 
double parlor, weaving her way among massive 
mahogany sideboards and sofas and little square 
workstands, and chairs with tall spindle backs 
or graceful harp backs inlaid with satinwood. A 
moving shade passed across the blurred old surface 
of a Dutch mirror propped up on the sofa, and 
the intruder started in great fright lest after all 


120 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


she was not alone. But the moving shadow had 
been only her own reflection. Again and again 
she encountered herself in the ancient mirrors 
propped against the walls. The mellowed gold 
of their broad frames gleamed out even in the 
twilighty rooms. The round ghostly faces of 
three tall silent clocks stared down at her from 
as many corners. The tall, narrow mantel- 
pieces were crowded with candlesticks and snuflFers 
and gay old china ornaments. Sally left the 
parlors and crossed the hall to the disused sitting- 
room. At once she remembered that William 
had bought andirons for the fireplace here, because 
she had expressed a wish for them. They were 
really here. He had given them to her the evening 
before their wedding. She knelt down on the 
floor to examine her andirons. They were cer- 
tainly very handsome, exactly to her taste. She 
laid a hand caressingly on the brass dog’s head 
surmounting each. She remembered so well 
how William had told her about the andirons as 
they sat together in the porch. She closed her 
eyes, remembering, and the fragment air of the 
June evening seemed to drift again across her 
senses. She felt disposed to sit there for a long 
time musing and remembering; but although 
there was no real danger of interruption, she con- 
stantly feared one. So with a long sigh, she roused 
herself and rose from her crouching position on the 
carpet. She stood there hesitating, convinced that 
she ought to go away, yet finding singular interest 


WHY SALLY INTRUDED 


121 


in being where she was, and in satisfying her 
curiosity about the setting of William’s life. She 
went softly back through the long wide hall, and 
through the narrower hall at the rear, and entered 
the kitchen. 

The yellow cats, dozing in a patch of sunlight 
under a window, opened their wise topaz eyes, 
and blinked at her in sleepy surprise. The 
visitor bent over to stroke their arching, furry 
backs, and they purred in such audible pleasure 
that she instinctively bade them, ‘‘ Hush! Hush!” 
She felt disposed to bid them not to tell tales. 

In a corner beyond the table, a battered broom 
was leaning against the kitchen wall. Involun- 
tarily Sally caught it up as she passed, and turned 
it upside down. She knew, even if William Van 
Besten did not, that it was ruinous to a broom to 
be left standing on its brush end. 

The dishcloth, damp and stiff with use, hung 
over the kitchen sink. Sally surveyed it disap- 
provingly. ‘‘ That dishcloth is simply abomi- 
nable,” she told the cats. It was frayed and rag- 
ged and musty, decidedly musty. Sally sniffed 
it with disgust. ‘‘Of course it would never occur 
to him to scald it out occasionally.” 

A swing door led from the kitchen to a wood- 
house beyond. Sally scrutinized critically Wil- 
liam’s device for holding the swing door closed. 
He had improvised a loop from a piece of worn 
blue suspender, by pinning together the ends. 
The loop was attached to the doorknob and then 


122 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


stretched to a nail which he had driven in the door 
frame. The scrim curtain on the half glass door 
leading from the yard into the kitchen was tied 
neatly back with one of William’s shoe-strings. 
Sally laughed softly, half tenderly, at the clumsy 
masculine makeshifts. But the sight of one of 
old Mrs. Van Besten’s best pink and white china 
vegetable dishes half full of milk set down on the 
brick hearth for the cats, brought a frown to 
young Mrs. Van Besten’s smooth white brow. 
How could even a man be so regardless of his 
valuable old family china ? Sally went from the 
kitchen across the butler’s pantry to the dining- 
room. She did not pause in the pantry longer 
than to give one swift glance up at the well- 
stocked shelves behind the glass doors, doors 
which she thought would be the better for washing. 
With a stifled exclamation, Sally grasped the 
changed appearance of the dining-room. She 
remembered exactly how it had looked when 
William brought her here three years ago and 
took her all over the house, and they had been 
happy and merry together, and just a little tender. 
She remembered how she had twitted William 
upon his bad taste in dining-room furniture, and 
had derided the commonplace oak table and 
chairs, and told him the chairs were horrors, and 
William had appeared quite charmed to have her 
rail at him. The ugly oak set had disappeared. 
In its stead was rich and beautiful mahogany. 
The table was as smooth and ruddy as a horse- 


WHY SALLY INTRUDED 


123 


chestnut freshly bursting from its prickly burr. 
It suggested some vanished Colonial mansion, 
some stately old-time couple with a troop of sons 
and daughters, guests and dependants gathered 
about them at table. So did the chairs, the fine 
Heppelwhite chairs with their harp backs, their 
high seats widening out from back to front. So 
did the massive buffet with its little brass fence 
around the top and its many cupboards and deep 
drawers. 

A great grease spot stared at her from the rug 
on the dining-room floor. A most horrid grease 
spot, likely to spread. With the remedy at hand, 
it really seemed wrong to leave that spot. Sally 
stole back to the kitchen and sought out the most 
tattered of William’s nondescript array of towels; 
then returning to the dining-room, she opened 
Mrs. Haselton’s benzine, knelt down, and scrubbed 
vigorously at the spot. “ There, I guess I have 
it all out,” she said finally, with a sigh of relief. 
“ He’ll probably never know it’s gone, but I shall 
feel much better even if it isn’t any business of 
mine.” 

She stood looking about at the handsome 
furniture. Somehow, she divined that these 
pieces in the dining-room were the beginning of 
William’s collection. He had known little and 
cared less about such things in the old days. 
Whether he knew it or not, he never would have 
cared about them but for her. She felt gratifying 
conviction of that fact. For the moment William 


124 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

was forgiven his pretty companion of the morning. 
Sally had forgotten all about her in thinking of 
happy dead days. Then she roused herself. 
What was the sense of becoming sentimental. 
Perhaps she and William had never cared very 
much for each other, as much as they had thought 
they did. They could certainly get along very 
well without each other. She told herself proudly 
that all she wanted now was to treat William 
fairly and squarely, and not to stand in the way 
of any happiness he sought. 

Suddenly a great shame fell upon her. What 
business had she to be playing the part of a spy 
upon him ? How could she ever justify to herself 
her intrusion into William’s house unknown to 
him ? Her blood coursed hot in self-contempt. 
How could she ever have done it She felt that 
she could not get away quickly enough from 
William’s premises. She would not permit her- 
self even one more glance at anything of his, as 
she fled. 

As she walked back to Kirton, trying to control 
her propensity to hurry, she met Judge Burrall. 
He stopped to shake hands. “ My dear young 
lady. I’m glad I haven’t missed you. Have you 
been to my house Won’t you come back with 
me ? ” He felt quite sure that she had been 
seeking him. 

“ No, I — I wasn’t expecting to bother you this 
morning.” Sally seemed oddly disconcerted. 
The Judge was unable to see any reason for her 


WHY SALLY INTRUDED 


125 


slight confusion. He regarded her with some 
curiosity. “ You’ve done nothing more, I sup- 
pose, since our interview ? Taken no further 
action ” 

‘‘ No. Oh, no. You seemed so sure I’d better 
wait. Do you think the time has come to do 
something ^ ” she asked anxiously. She was 
flushed and flurried. 

“ I’d wait a little longer,” he advised decidedly. 


CHAPTER X 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 


S William Van Besten’s accustomed finger 



-CjL reached to the top of the window for the 
door-key, his feet knocked over something on the 
mat. He stooped over to investigate and picked 
up the bottle that Sally had left and carried it 
into the house. Setting it down, he went about 
housekeeping cares. He was methodically meas- 
uring out coffee for to-morrow’s breakfast when 
one of the cats, hungering for a caress, leaped on 
the table. She hit his hand precisely as it lifted 
a heaping tablespoonful of fragrant brown grounds. 
They were dashed to the floor and crunched 
under his feet. Orderly William sought his 
broom to sweep up. It was a vague surprise to 
him to find the broom standing upside down. 
He had never known himself to leave it in that 
position, but he gave the matter no consideration. 

He stopped to sniff in the dining-room. “ I 
can’t think where this smell of benzine comes 
from.” But he never noticed that the unsightly 
grease spot had disappeared from the carpet. 


126 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 


127 


Presently, when there was nothing else to do, 
he remembered the package he had picked up 
at his door, and sat down to examine it. He 
unfolded the wrappings in a leisurely way and 
extricated the bottle. ‘‘ Houston’s Specific,” he 
read from the label. “An invaluable remedy for 
persons recovering from severe illness or otherwise 
debilitated. Agreeable, fortifying, unexcelled. 
Dose: One teaspoonful three times a day.” 
William held the bottle up to the light to regard 
the clear amber contents. He removed the cork 
and sniffed the fluid tentatively. “ Rather pun- 
gent and agreeable. Miserable quack com- 
pound!” he addressed the bottle sternly. “ Pretty 
poor business I should say to distribute it in such 
quantities. A sample one-fourth the size would 
answer the purpose.” He rose with the intention 
of emptying the medicine into the kitchen sink, 
then decided to set it up on the sideboard for the 
present. 

The front doorbell rang. William hastily 
lighted a candle, which he carried in his hand, as 
he went through the long hall. “ Who is there ? ” 
he called. 

“ It is I, Mr. Van Besten, Judge Burrall.” 

William made an apologetic sound. “ I’m 
afraid I have to ask you to step around to the side 
door. Judge. This one is too obstructed to open. 
If you don’t mind stepping around to the side 
door .? ” 

“ Not in the least. Certainly.” The Judge 


128 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


answered cheerfully and William heard him 
thumping down the steps with his cane. William 
stepped quickly to the side door and threw it 
open and stood ready to welcome his guest. 
‘‘ Pleased to see you, Judge. Walk in. A man 
gets into bad habits living alone. Now if you’ll 
excuse me for one moment Fll light the sitting- 
room.” He spoke cordially. 

“ Pray don’t trouble yourself,” the Judge said 
quickly. ‘‘ Why not sit here where you usually 
sit This is all right.” 

But Mr. Van Besten persisted in lighting the 
sitting-room. When he was invited to walk into 
it, the Judge glanced with some curiosity toward 
the front door. An old Dutch Kaas, a cumbrous 
affair with heavy fluted pillars and a vast drawer 
below its ample cupboard, stood before the door. 
William noticed the glance and called his guest’s 
attention to the Kaas. ‘‘ This is a recent acqui- 
sition of mine. I found it up in Albany. Of 
course that’s no place for it, in front of my door. 
I simply had it put there until I can decide what 
to do with it.” 

‘‘ It is a delightful old piece,” the Judge said 
cordially. “ I’ve heard you were a collector, 
Mr. Van Besten. I used to know something of 
such matters myself. It’s a fascinating study.” 

William responded at once to the Judge’s 
interested tone. “ Perhaps you’ll let me show you 
what I have. I’d like your opinion on some of 
these things. You see, I knew nothing about 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 


129 


antiques when I began. I know a little more now.’’ 

For an hour or more the young man and the 
old man wandered happily from room to room. 
The old mansion took on an unaccustomed effect 
of illumination as William lighted the chandeliers 
that had not been lighted for years. William 
hesitated on the foot of the stairs. “ There are 
some rather good pieces upstairs if you care to 
go up ? ” 

Yes, indeed. Let’s see them by all means.” 
The Judge followed William with alacrity up the 
broad shallow stairs. With subdued elation, 
William led from one big square bedchamber 
to another and displayed his treasures in four- 
posters, in chests and dressers. Nothing could 
have thawed him into sociability more quickly than 
interest displayed in his collection. The Judge’s 
manner, open, easy, pleasant, never betrayed 
that he was studying his host with keener interest 
than he bestowed upon the collection. The 
charm of the showing to William was the fact that 
the Judge admired with knowledge and discrim- 
ination. Indeed, to establish his connoisseurship 
he criticised adversely here and there. 

“ That’s no Sheraton,” he pronounced decid- 
edly, shaking his head contemptuously at the 
stand which William called him to admire. 
“ That’s much more recent. Yes, I can prove 
it to you.” 

The argument lasted all the way downstairs. 
They took it up again when William had heed- 


130 AN INTERRUPTED HON ET MOON 


fully turned out the lights in the long parlor and 
they were comfortably seated in the sitting-room. 

To this understanding listener William showed 
the knowledge he possessed. He told humorous 
stories, dryly, effectively, of how he had come by 
some of his possessions. The two quite warmed 
toward each other. 

The Judge was astonished at the glow and 
animation of the young man who usually appeared 
so cold and austere. From the standpoint of a 
man who remembers what the interests of life 
may be he felt that there was something whim- 
sically humorous and pitiful both in such an 
absorption. 

“ Have you any idea what you’ll do eventually 
with your collection ?” he asked. “ This house 
won’t hold a great deal more.” 

“ No.” A little sadness fell upon William at 
the reminder. “ You see, I began with the idea 
merely of furnishing this house in keeping with 
its age and style. Some of these days I intend 
to have the rooms all overhauled and then fit up 
each as completely as possible. Whatever is 
left over Fll have to dispose of in some way or 
other, I suppose.” 

He felt a little ill at ease under the Judge’s 
kind, comprehending gaze. “It’s a fine hobby. 
I think myself that it’s good for a man to have 
a hobby. Only — ” the Judge hesitated. He was 
beginning to like this young man very much, but 
after all he knew him very slightly. “ Of course, it 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 


13 1 

doesn’t take the place of other things. After all, 
a man is scarcely justified in letting his affection 
centre on tables and chairs. We all need, we all 
ought to have, human companionship.” 

The words sounded slightly admonitory. Yet 
they were spoken so genially that William took 
no offence. The Judge’s instinct guided him 
away from further intrusion. Nor had he for- 
gotten the main object of his call. 

“ By the way, I should think you might find 
something interesting at the vendue at the old 
Waring place.” 

“ What’s that .? I don’t know about that,” 
William said with immediate interest. 

The Judge puffed away for a moment, then 
flicked off the cigar ash into the tray William had 
provided. “ Didn’t you ever drive by the old 
Waring place ” he asked. “A fine old house 
with an evergreen hedge in front, five or six miles 
the other side of Manorton ? ” 

“ The house with the big square porch in 
front ? Yes, I remember it,” William said. 

The Judge’s expression grew reminiscent. “ I 
used to visit there at one time. I was sweet on 
one of the girls,” he confessed genially. 

“ Well, the family are all gone now. I saw the 
death of Miss Cornelia only a few weeks ago. 
Cornelia and Mary, they were the last. They 
never married. They lived and died in the old 
place.” The Judge’s voice was warm with 
recollection. It communicated to William Van 


132 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Besten a subtle inkling of strong, sweet past 
emotions. He did not care to break the pause 
before the Judge went on in a different tone: 

“ That old house is simply stuffed with antique 
treasures. There was an old buffet that Tve never 
seen equalled, and some pieces of Chippendale.” 

A business-like alertness seized Mr. Van Besten. 
“ When is the vendue to be ? ” 

“ Let me see — the fifteenth. That’s to-morrow, 
isn’t it } Begins at two, I believe. Think you’ll 
drive down } ” 

“ Yes, I think I will. Much obliged to you 
for telling me about it.” 

The Judge laid down his cigar stub. ‘‘ That 
was a very fine cigar, Mr. Van Besten. Drop in 
and sample my brand when you’ve nothing 
better to do.” 

“ I’ll be pleased to do so. Judge,” with a 
pleasant liking for this companionable old man. 
William lighted him down the sidesteps. 

The Judge soliloquized all the way home. “An 
excellent fellow, but if he isn’t circumvented he’ll 
develop into a first-class crank.” 

The yard which the old Waring sisters had 
taken pride in keeping trim, was littered with 
twigs and last year’s sodden leaves. There had 
been no one to take pride in it this Spring. 

Sally Van Besten was struck by the contrast. 
“ How differently the place looks already,” she 
said to her brother Joe. “ How unhappy the 
poor old ladies would be to see it now.” 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 


133 


“ Let’s hope they can’t,” Joe said stoically. 
He cramped the wagon so that his sister could 
climb out. He had other business to which to 
attend and meant to return for her. 

“ Try to get back as soon as you can, won’t 
you, Joe } ” she requested. 

“ Yes, I will, but it’s going to take me some 
time to go ’way over there and back. See here, 
Sally, don’t get impatient if you have to wait a 
little,” Joe answered, and drove away. 

Sally found the yard, the house, the barn, 
lively with people who had arrived in time for a 
preliminary survey of what was to be sold. The 
Waring sisters had lived secluded lives, holding 
themselves somewhat above the people about them. 
They had cherished family pride all the more 
when the family fortunes failed. Then they 
withdrew more and more from their neighbors 
into the seclusion of the stately home where all 
the long monotonous stretch of their years had 
been passed. They had been as shadows in the 
community. The setting of their carefully reticent 
lives now revealed was interesting to their neigh- 
bors. In the spacious low ceiled rooms, Sally 
found weather-beaten farmers chewing long stems 
of grass in a reflective manner, which they might 
have learned from their cows. Their sharp-eyed, 
practical wives were audibly disparaging whatever 
they wished to possess. 

She noticed the heirs, a grandnephew and 
grandniece, pass through the rooms several times, 


134 AN INTERRUPTED HONETMOON 

scrutinizing the assembling crowd, appraising them 
as probable buyers. The middle-aged faces of 
the heirs were not attractive. They looked 
anxious to conclude this settling up of the estate, 
to realize as much as possible, and to be off 
whence they came. They had no feeling for the 
old home. 

An increasing pity for the dead old sisters 
softened Sally’s heart as she wandered about the 
rooms from which semblance of homelikeness 
had disappeared. The furniture, the array of 
ancient crockery set out upon the tables, the glazed 
bunches of wax flowers, the whatnots filled with 
quaint odds and ends, all had a forlorn aspect 
thus huddled together haphazard that they might 
be appraised by mercenary eyes and fingers. 
All the sentiment, the quality that had made 
them precious to their owners, seemed to have 
been suddenly stripped from them. 

Sally’s heart gave a jump. She had seen 
William Van Besten coming into the room. She 
would have to meet him. Ordinarily, an encoun- 
ter with William had ceased to be an ordeal, now 
that she and he had demonstrated that they were 
able to live their lives serenely, with no reference 
to each other. But to-day, at sight of him, 
guilty recollection of her secret visit to his house 
oppressed her. 

William quickly caught sight of Sally. Sally 
recollected herself and gave him a constrained 
bow. William gravely acknowledged it. Pres- 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 


135 


ently he joined her as she stood turning over a 
trayful of trifles. “ This must have been a fine 
old house in its day,” he observed. 

“ Yes, indeed.” He did not understand why 
she scrutinized him in such a questioning way, 
William could not possibly know that Sally was 
wishing that she knew whether he had taken 
his tonic. It seemed to her that he was less 
thin and pale than when they had discussed the 
linen lawn in his office. “ I believe he has tried 
it and it’s done him good,” she thought, and 
smiled with sudden brightness which he found 
very pleasant. ^ 

“ They’re getting ready to begin the sale. 
Don’t you think we’d better sit down ? ” he sug- 
gested. 

“ Perhaps we had,” she agreed. 

They went slowly forward to the tiers of camp 
stools and with a growing sense of sociability 
settled themselves advantageously. The auc- 
tioneer took his place at the desk at the end of 
the room and an expectant smile ran wavelike 
over the faces of his audience. The auctioneer 
was well known as a humorous character likely 
to furnish a cheering hour. Sally paid closest 
attention to the business in hand. As he sat 
beside her, close enough to catch suggestion of 
her favorite perfume, William cast long, thoughtful 
glances at her profile, at the coil of bright brown 
hair under her blue hat. The time before their 
wedding was so far away that he did not recall 


136 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

it now. He felt almost as though he were just 
getting acquainted with a charming stranger, a 
stranger rather difficult to know. 

It was now the turn of the rush-bottomed chairs, 
the chairs which Mrs. Joe Haselton particularly 
desired to own. To secure them if possible, 
Sally had come at her sister-in-law’s request. 
She straightened in her seat as she saw one of the 
half dozen brought forward. The auctioneer 
lifted it so that all could see it, and then sat it 
back on the floor. “ How much am I offered 
for six rush-bottomed hand-painted chairs .? Good 
as they were the day they were made.” 

“ Quarter apiece,” came a voice from the rear. 

‘‘ It’s an insult to them,” said the auctioneer. 

Fifty cents,” called Sally. 

William glanced at her in surprise. He had 
particularly admired the rush-bottomed chairs. 
Nor did he think that Sally really wanted them. 
Why should she want chairs ? 

“ Seventy-five,” he said. 

‘‘A dollar,” Sally called promptly. 

William nodded a quarter advance. The two 
had the bidding to themselves. As always, 
William was persistent. 

“ Dollar and a half.” As she said it, Sally 
could not help giving William a reproachful 
glance. Annie wanted the chairs and she did not 
want to pay a great deal for them. 

A mischievous sparkle was in William’s eyes 
as he leaned toward Sally confidentially. “ Do 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 


137 


you really want them so very much he whispered. 

“Annie does. I came on purpose to get them 
for her.” Sally’s voice was reproachful, so were 
her eyes. 

“ One and a half — one and a half — one and a 
half ” 

“ You must forgive me. You see, I didn’t 
understand. I thought you were bidding half 
for fun.” His eyes looked back in merry pro- 
pitiation. 

“ Going, going, going, thud — ^gone.” The 
chairs had been knocked down to Sally at a dollar 
and a half. She gave William a mollified look. 
“ It was very kind of you to let me have them. I 
hope you didn’t want them very much.” 

William laughed out boyishly. “ I can exist 
without them, thank you. I’m pleased that Annie 
should have them. You can tell her that they 
are really good in their way and not so very easy 
to find nowadays.” 

“Annie isn’t going to value them as antiques, but 
because they’re pretty and sensible,” Sally said. 

The two felt themselves getting very pleasantly 
companionable. 

The auctioneer now announced an intermission 
of fifteen minutes, when the sale would be resumed 
in the dining-room. “ Let’s walk about a bit,” 
William said briskly. He showed no intention 
of leaving her. ‘‘Joe ought to be back by this 
time,” she said uneasily. “ Now that I have 
Annie’s chairs, I really ought to go home.” 


138 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“ Let me take you home. Fll take you directly 
if you say so.’’ He spoke eagerly. 

Sally shrank a little from the invitation. “ Oh, 
thank you very much, but I’d better wait for Joe. 
He’s sure to be here soon now.” 

William did not urge his invitation. Somehow 
his silence made her feel that she had been rudely 
blunt and positive in her declining. 

“There’s Judge Burrall!” Sally exclaimed. 

The Judge came up to them beaming satisfac- 
tion. “ Good afternoon, Mrs. Van Besten. 
Good afternoon. Van Besten. Didn’t expect to 
see me here, eh ? ” 

“ Hardly, as you didn’t mention any intention 
of coming,” William answered. 

“ The fact is, I hadn’t the slightest idea of 
coming,” the Judge admitted. “ But the more I 
thought of it, the more I wanted to visit the old 
house once more before it passed into strange 
hands.” To himself alone the Judge admitted 
the mingled motives which had brought him. 
He had so wanted to know whether William and 
his wife really met. 

A call bell announced that the sale would be 
resumed. “ I do wish Joe would come,” Sally 
thought impatiently, as again William seated 
himself beside her. He did no bidding. She 
could not help feeling that he was staying on her 
account. Well, he needn’t. She watched pro- 
ceedings intently, but she was not always conscious 
of the object displayed. She was annoyed with 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 




herself for being so insensely preoccupied with 
the long, quiet figure beside her, so aware each 
time she felt his steady gaze. She felt it often. 

The auctioneer laid down his hammer and 
announced that the sale would be resumed on the 
following afternoon. The people hurried away. 
It was certainly very provoking of Joe not to come, 
to leave her to indefinite waiting in this dreary, 
dismantled house. She saw the heirs eyeing her 
and William as though wondering why they 
lingered, wishing evidently to be free of their 
presence. Sally pulled out her watch unostenta- 
tiously, not meaning William to see her do it, 
but perceiving that he did. An impatient little 
frown puckered her brow. William’s eyes were 
upon her, forcing her to look at him. He smiled 
quizzically, with thorough understanding of her 
mood. 

“ Don’t you think you’d better let me take you 
home ? I go right past your door, you know. 
We can leave word for Joe that you’ve gone.” 

Sally smiled back at him frankly. ‘‘ Very 
well.” She accompanied him docilely. 

Judge Burrall, extricating his own vehicle from 
the line tied to the fence opposite the Waring 
place, saw Mrs. Van Besten step into her hus- 
band’s buggy. The Judge dropped his hitching 
strap and rubbed his hands together with delight. 

Mr. and Mrs. William Van Besten drove 
sedately along the country road. If the recollec- 
tion of the other disastrous drive of theirs, almost 


140 AN INTERRUPTED HONETMOON 

four years in the past now, came to them, it did 
not haunt them as might have been expected. 
The present was too different, too interesting. 
They might have been two agreeable strangers 
meeting for the first time, attracted, yet cautious, 
aware that they knew very little concerning each 
other. An extreme courtesy held them aloof. 
Her bright, unflinching gaze baffled, seemed to 
defy him. 

“ That was a very pretty little table you bought,” 
Sally said, in a politely conversational way. 

“ Yes, I was glad to get hold of that bit of 
Heppelwhite. It matches my dining-room set 
very well.” William looked at her. “ You’ve 
never seen it. You’d hardly recognize the room 
now.” 

Sally turned her head quickly and looked at 
the blue distant mountains. She felt steeped in 
shame to remember how she had invaded Wil- 
liam’s home, how she had prowled through his 
rooms and taken liberties with his possessions. 
Oh, if ever he were to find out what she had done! 
If anyone had seen her going in, coming out. 
She cringed with mortification at the thought. 
William was continuing: 

“ That oak set you disliked so much I got rid 
of long ago. The room’s all furnished in mahog- 
any now. Fine old Heppelwhite.” 

Sally felt the allusion which William had had 
no intention of making. He felt it himself as a 
mistake, There was a moment’s awkward silence 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 


141 

which Sally bravely broke. “ Fm sure they must 
be a great improvement.” They were very heed- 
ful after that not to touch upon those sore things 
that lay behind them. They talked of the present, 
of Joe and Annie and little Joe, of William’s 
collection. 

When William drew up his horse at the Haselton 
gate Sally had the depressing sense that her spirit 
had been off on a brief holiday and must now 
return to humdrum every day. “ Won’t you 
come in and see Annie ” she invited formally. 
She wanted him to come. She wanted to show 
herself most impersonally kind and courteous, 
but because she was embarassed, her voice sounded 
cold and constrained. William felt it so and his 
first impulse was to respond to its suggestion by 
declining and going his way. But something 
stronger than bruised self-love made him act 
otherwise. 

“ Thank you. I should like to pay my respects 
to Annie. I’ll step in for a few minutes.” 

The two went soberly up the path side by side. 
Then a moment’s bitterness possessed William, 
remembering when he had been there last. 

Annie Haselton, watching for her family to 
return, could hardly believe her eyes. Then her 
wifely anxiety took fire and she hurried to the 
door. ‘‘ Why, where’s Joe ? Has anything hap- 
pened to Joe ? ” 

Sally explained quickly. 

“ William, you must excuse me. I’m real glad 


142 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

to see you.’' Annie held out her hand so cor- 
dially, her voice was so warm with feeling, that 
William’s heart responded. 

“ Thank you, Annie,” he said heartily. 

‘‘ If you’ll excuse me for a moment. I’ll just get 
off my things.” Sally felt impelled to escape 
from the room. She needed to school herself 
in a composed demeanor which could endure even 
Annie’s questioning eyes, questioning how much 
William’s presence might mean. She stood in 
her own room a little breathless at the situation. 
Some new element stirring her to unrest, incisive, 
interesting, seemed to have come suddenly into 
the monotony of her humdrum dressmaking. 

She flung down her hat and coat upon the bed 
and crossed the room quickly to her dresser. 
Sally frowned at her own sparkling face in the 
mirror. Then she hurriedly rearranged her hair. 
Still frowning disapproval of herself, she pulled 
open her upper drawer and caught a soft blue 
necktie, with which she replaced the sober black 
one she was wearing. Then she went down- 
stairs. 

In a little while, William rose to go. “ Come 
and see us again, William,” Annie said cordially. 

Involuntarily, before he answered, William 
turned and looked at Sally. She did not repeat 
the invitation, but her smile was hospitable. 
“ Thank you, Annie, I certainly will,” William 
said. 

The door closed behind him. 


A COUNTRY VENDUE 


H3 

“ What does this mean ? ’’ Annie demanded, 
turning upon Sally with pretended severity. 

“ Now, Annie, don’t.’’ Sally took her mystified 
sister-in-law by the shoulder and shook her lightly, 
then kissed her heartily. She laid her burning 
cheek against Annie’s cool one. “ It just hap- 
pened so. It doesn’t mean anything at all and 
don’t you go to imagining it does.” She spoke 
with bright defiance, but there was no irritation 
in it. A subtle elation possessed her which she 
tried to hide. 

Later, when Joe had come home and the 
family had gone to their rooms, she leaned on 
her window sill for a long time enjoying the 
fragrant night. She felt a new cheer, a fine 
serenity, and she thought this was because she 
and William had now demonstrated that it was 
possible for them to meet on a simple footing of 
friendliness. 

“ I wonder if he will come again,” thought 
Sally. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 

T he church bell was tolling for a funeral. 

Everyday occupations in Manorton had 
for the moment been largely set aside. As Mrs. 
Van Besten and Mrs. Haselton, the latter leading 
little Joe, came out of their gate, they heard other 
doors and gates opening and shutting, and saw 
many of their neighbors proceeding as they did 
themselves toward the church. People bowed 
soberly to each other and walked sedately. 
“ Doesn’t it seem exactly like Sunday ? ” Sally 
commented. Little Joe sighed as he tugged at 
his mother’s hand. He looked very sweet, very 
demure, in his stiffly starched sailor suit, but he 
felt oppressed by this elaborate toilet at this 
unusual hour. 

Shortly after the bell ceased tolling, William 
Van Besten drove along and stopped at the 
Haselton’s. He rang the front door bell. There 
was no answer. A misgiving seized him as he 
rang again. The house certainly had an unusu- 
ally shut-up look. He tried the door. Locked. 
144 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 145 

A keen disappointment was upon him. He by 
no means relished the thought that his long drive 
had been for nothing. He stood deliberating for 
some time before he walked slowly back to his 
horse. A small boy watched him with casual 
interest. “ Do you know where the family are ? ” 
William asked. 

The boy nodded. “ Gone to the funeral. 
Mr. Haselton hasn’t. He’s at the mill. My 
mother’s gone to the funeral too.” 

Mr. Van Besten felt that the situation was 
slightly ameliorated. A funeral can’t take very 
long. He decided to wait. He left his horse 
under the hotel shed and wandered off aimlessly, 
looking frequently at his watch. 

Mr. Silas Thompson was to be buried that 
afternoon. In Manorton the living consider it 
obligatory to pay final respect to the dead by 
attending the funeral service. Silas Thompson 
was an old man and he had been very slow about 
dying. Nobody bore him ill will, but nobody 
was especially sorry now that he was gone. His 
son’s wife had been summoned from her distant 
home at the beginning of his illness. She had 
taken conscientious care of him for many weeks, 
but she often told the neighbors plaintively that 
she did not see how her family could possibly 
get along without her much longer. She had no 
idea, she said, that it was going to be so long. 

Everybody in Manorton knew Silas Thompson, 
but perhaps nobody really liked or disliked him. 


146 AN INTERRUPTED HONETMOON 


He had been a man of many vexations, great 
and small, which he had kept as much as possible 
to himself, asking no one for sympathy, going 
silently about the Manorton ways, as impersonal 
as his own long, angular shadow. Even the 
woman who cared for his house and cooked his 
meals was glad now to be released. She said 
frankly that she had found it lonesome living at 
Mr. Thompson’s, and that her married daughter 
needed her to help with the children. 

Dr. Lanson had given notice of the funeral 
on Sunday. Because Silas Thompson had lived 
among these men and women so long, they felt 
now that they must pay him the final tribute. A 
succession of carriages was passing through the 
wide gateway up to the gravelled drive through 
the churchyard. The village people, mostly on 
foot, passed through the small gate that barred 
the straight path from the street to the church 
porch. People stared a little or bowed with 
reserve when Mr. Harlan Morgan, tall and 
slouching, and Mr. Allen Mackenzie, trimmer, 
always aristocratic in bearing, in his well-worn, 
immaculate black suit, came up the path together. 
The two seldom entered the church. In fact, 
it was rather embarrassing to them to do so to-day. 
But in a distant, not forgotten time, they and 
Silas Thompson had belonged to the same set 
of gay young village people. Silas had married 
and allied himself to all that spelt respectability 
in Manorton. He and the black sheep had 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 147 

drifted very far apart; but now that he lay dead 
they recalled the merry Si Thompson who once 
had been, and for his sake came to the funeral. 
Sally Van Besten gave them a bright smile and a 
cordial bow. It had become a pleasant knowledge 
between them and her that they understood and 
liked each other. She recognized instinctively 
that the occasion must be an ordeal to them, and 
that some kindly sentiment for the dead man 
brought them. Sally was a natural partisan. 
She enjoyed showing in public that in spite of 
the general adverse opinion, she was glad to stand 
on friendly terms with the two disregarded old men. 
The making of Millie Thompson’s pink party 
gown had served to strengthen Sally’s self-conviction 
of former prejudice. Mrs. Allan noticed Sally’s 
smile. “Will you look at that!” she whispered dis- 
approvingly to her daughter. “ Sally Van Besten’s 
so singular and unfeeling. You’d think she would 
try to look sober at a funeral, just to be seemly. 
Look at her. She couldn’t look more pleased 
if it was the strawberry and ice cream festival.” 

Millie Thompson, too, smiled at the black 
sheep. She subdued her buoyancy of step as 
she came into the churchyard. “ You mustn’t 
hurry so, Morris,” she admonished. “ It doesn’t 
look respectful.” 

Morris obediently reduced his springing gait, 
but at the same time he gave her a look that made 
her demure eyes dance with joy, because even if 
old Cousin Silas was dead, she and Morris were 


148 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

young and happy. She felt tenderly compas- 
sionate for the old man who could never know 
any more of the abounding delicious thrills of 
living. How much of them had he ever known, 
she wondered. 

Millie had come because the dead man was 
her father’s cousin. There were plenty of people 
in Manorton who thought that he might have 
helped the poverty-stricken Thompson children 
more than he ever had done. When their father 
had disappeared he had done something, not 
much. Millie had struggled to feel grateful for 
the churlish aid, but she had not succeeded. 
She knew, instinctively, child as she was, that 
it had been accorded, not from any special kind- 
liness, any kinsmanly feeling for her and her 
little brothers, but to save Silas Thompson’s 
family pride. She felt that he had grudged the 
benefaction and had avoided Cousin Silas, who 
was content to have her do so. But now that the 
solitary old man was dead, Millie reproached 
herself because she had never tried to make friends. 

The people filed into the pews and sat decor- 
ously watching each other. Dr. and Mrs. Lanson 
arrived. Dr. Lanson went quickly up the aisle, 
a consciously dignified man, rather fine looking, 
always well dressed, always clerical, with a fine 
sense of his position and a ready professional 
urbanity. Mrs. Lanson, slender and worn, rather 
colorless in effect, neat but decidedly shabby in 
attire, hurried into her pew in her nervous little 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 149 

way. Mrs. Lanson had worn the same black 
gown to church season after season. She had 
worn the same black bonnet which, with its modest 
rosette of blue satin ribbon, was an inoffensive 
anachronism. Mrs. Lanson’s pretty brown hair 
was combed back tightly, with painful austerity, 
from her slightly sunken temples. She had the 
pale, worn aspect of the sweet-natured, nervously 
oppressed woman. The amenities of dress would 
have done much for her. She might have been 
so easily still a pretty woman, a pleasure to the 
eyes of the world, instead of strictly and unques- 
tionably the creature of utility to which her 
unselfishness had reduced her. With the prestige 
of her husband to maintain, her four children, 
and very small means, Mrs. Lanson was a very 
busy woman. It had been particularly incon- 
venient to leave home this afternoon, but it had 
never occurred to her not to come. 

She glanced at her watch. Still a few minutes 
before service would begin. With the nervous 
flutter of one whose minutes are overcrowded, 
she rose and tiptoed over to the Haselton pew. 
She smiled in a motherly fashion at staring little 
Joe, who, having clambered up on the seat, was 
pressing eager, tickling questions into his mother’s 
ear. 

“ Be quiet, Joe. You must keep still,” his 
mother commanded severely, then kissed him 
because he was so dear and sweet that she could 
not help it. 


1 50 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“ I hope you’re both coming to the sewing 
society at half-past four,” Mrs. Lanson whispered 
remindingly. “ It meets at the rectory to-day, 
you know.” 

Fm sorry, Mrs. Lanson, but I won’t be able 
to come. I have to take the baby home, you see,” 
Mrs. Haselton answered. 

‘‘ But you’ll come, Sally ? ” 

I don’t see how I can to-day,” Sally said, 
apologetically, with never a divination of William 
waiting impatiently for the funeral to be over. 

‘‘ Oh, yes, please do, Sally,” Mrs. Lanson 
urged. “ I know how busy you are, but if you 
possibly can, I specially want you to be there 
to-day. You’re always so practical and efficient. 
We need your judgment, you see. There is quite 
an important matter for us to decide.” 

Sally nodded good-naturedly. “ Very well, 
Mrs. Lanson, I’ll come.” 

The last solemn toll of the bell ceased as Mrs. 
Lanson tiptoed hurriedly back to her pew. She 
paused for an instant to bend across Morris 
Stetson and whisper remindingly, “ You’ll come 
to the sewing society afterwards, my dear ? ” 

Millie Thompson blushed a little as she bent 
forward to answer. “ I can’t, Mrs. Lanson,” 
she said bluntly. “ I’ve promised to go walking 
with Morris.” 

Mrs. Lanson shook her head in mild reproach, 
but with a very kindly understanding in her 
pleasant eyes. 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 151 

The congregation sat up expectantly. To 
many there the occasion was not without 
pleasurable excitement. Death brought a touch 
of drama into their uneventful lives. It stirred 
them with a sense of vague, illimitable mys- 
teries with which they were usually too busy to 
concern themselves. 

The handsome ebonized casket which con- 
tained Silas Thompson’s worn-out body, had 
already been carried into the church, up to the 
head of the central aisle, and placed under the 
pulpit. The presence of Death dignified the 
bare little sanctuary. The purple velvet pall 
that covered the casket hung in rich, heavy folds 
of solemn color, with its tarnished silver fringe 
touching the floor. The congregation of the 
Manorton church had long admired the church 
pall. It had cost a large sum of money in its 
time, but that was many years ago. There were 
elderly men and women in the church who had 
admired it when they were children. Then, its 
sumptuous velvet pile, its depth of lovely color, 
the glory of its silver fringe, had appealed to 
their imaginations, suggesting mysterious, potent 
values which they could feel but not analyze. But 
the church pall had gradually been growing 
shabby. Its fringe was tarnished to dinginess. 
There were worn and faded spots in the royal 
purple; and long matted streaks showed in the 
folds in which it was laid away. 

For two years now the ladies of the weekly 


152 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

sewing society had been working to buy a new 
pall for the church. By means of ice cream 
festivals in summer, and a bazaar held shortly 
before Christmas, they had at last succeeded. 
The new modern pall of heavy black broadcloth, 
with lustrous silken fringe, had been ordered. 
Perry Herter might be expected to bring it down 
from Kirton any day. It seemed part of Silas 
Thompson’s consistent ill luck in death as in 
life that it had not arrived in time to cover him. 

When the cortege had passed out of the church 
to the peaceful sunlit burying ground at the rear, 
where Silas Thompson was to lie with the parents 
who had been lying there for half a century, Mrs. 
Lanson hurried home to make ready for the advent 
of the sewing society. The shabby sitting-room 
was in immaculate order; and with a sigh of relief, 
she caught up her mending basket and sat down 
to make some headway in the inexhaustible arrears 
of ragged stockings. Mrs. Lanson was an inde- 
fatigable darner. The fraying ingrain carpet, 
the table cover, the cushion on the minister’s 
easy chair, all bore witness to her skill. 

The rectory stood on a corner where a country 
road intersected the village street. Mrs. Lanson 
saw Morris Stetson and Millie Thompson come 
around the corner. As Millie walked buoyantly 
along the high bank, brushing through its fringe 
of goldenrod and Queen Anne's lace, the breeze- 
tossed wreaths of a woodbine swayed out from a 
dogwood tree and caught her brown hair and 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 153 

twined around her shoulders. Her spirited, girlish 
form stood out against the clear blue sky. Her 
merry face was framed in the scarlet filigree of 
the vine’s five-fingered leaves, its clinging tendrils, 
as she stood gaily restive while Morris disentangled 
her. Mrs. Lanson overheard her care-free laugh 
and smiled tenderly at the two, although she 
knew very well that they did not see her and that 
they were not in the least interested in the middle- 
aged woman at her humdrum darning in the 
rectory window. 

Mrs. Haselton hurried home with little Joe. 
William Van Besten surprised her by rising from 
a chair on the porch. “Why, William!” she 
exclaimed. 

“ You see, Fve been holding the fort in your 
absence,” he explained. “ I thought you would 
be back before long — ^you and Sally. Where is 
Sally ? ” He tried to conceal his disappointment 
at not seeing her. 

“ Sally’s gone to the sewing society. I’m 
so sorry it’s happened so.” Mrs. Haselton spoke 
with sincere regret. 

William s grim face made Annie feel apologetic, 
as though Sally had had no business to go to the 
sewing society when he had driven all the way 
from Kirton to see her. “ She didn’t want to 
go a bit, but Mrs. Lanson insisted, so that she 
couldn’t very well help herself. I’m so sorry. 
But won’t you come in ? ” 

William deliberated. 


154 INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Oh, yes, do,’^ Annie urged. “ I don’t believe 
she’ll stay very long. I’m sure she’ll be sorry to 
miss you.” 

More waiting. William looked grimmer than 
ever as he followed Annie into the house. 

The church pall had served as such for the last 
time. The sexton brought it to the rectory as 
he had been directed. Mrs. Lanson shook it 
out and laid it on the table for examination by 
the members of the sewing society. 

“ It’s dreadfully faded,” she said. 

The Sunday School needed a banner, and it 
had occurred to some bright mind that one might 
be created from the best of the pall. The ladies 
bent over it critically, wondering how they could 
contrive the banner, how they could expurgate 
the unsightly, faded streaks in the velvet. It 
was a difficult problem. 

“ Yes, we can do it, but it will have to be pieced,” 
Sally Van Besten pronounced. She was recog- 
nized as authority, her judgment unquestioned. 

“ But the piecing’s going to show,” Mrs. 
Brownson said regretfully. “ I’m afraid we can’t 
make a very satisfactory job of it. Perhaps it 
isn’t worth while to attempt it.” 

‘‘ Oh, I’m sure we can do it nicely,” Sally said, 
all eager interest and enthusiasm, as was Sally’s 
way whatever the subject in hand. “ We can 
applique on a motto. That will hide the piecing. 
By the way. I’ve some buff broadcloth pieces at 
home that would be just the thing to cut into 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 155 

letters. What do you think ? I’d just as soon 
give it as not,” she offered heartily. 

“ Trust Sally Haselton to find a way out,” 
Mrs. Brownson said admiringly. 

“ I’ll step home and get it right away,” Sally 
said briskly and departed. 

‘‘Why, William!” He rose to greet her as 
she entered. 

“ I’ve been waiting for you,” he said cheer- 
fully. His eyes approved her. 

“ I’m so glad you’ve got home, Sally,” Mrs. 
Haselton said heartily. 

“ But I haven’t. I mean ” Sally said 

hastily, “ I’ve got to go right back. I just came 
for some pieces. I’m sorry.” She looked at 
William. 

“ Oh, let them get along without you. Send the 
pieces over by Neddy Thompson and stay, now 
you’re here,” Annie advised. 

Gloom had fallen upon William. 

“ No, I’ll have to go back myself,” Sally main- 
tained decidedly. “ They need me. Excuse me, 
please.” She looked very pretty, very positive, 
as she hurried upstairs to find the buff broad- 
cloth. When she came down, she looked in at 
the sitting-room door. “ I’m very sorry to go 
off like this, William, but you see I can’t help it.” 

She was sorry, and yet she felt a wicked satis- 
faction in his discomfiture. 

“ Good afternoon,” said William coldly. 

The ladies left at work upon the pall, ripped off 


IS6AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

the rusty fringe, its creased old lining. To even 
the least imaginative the task brought heart- 
stirrings of remembrance. 

“ Poor Mr. Thompson,” Mrs. Lanson said. 
“ Pm so sorry the new pall didn’t get here in 
time.” 

“ Weren’t you surprised to see Harlan Morgan 
and Allen Mackenzie there to-day } ” Mrs. Arnold 
asked. “ I guess it’s many a long day since they 
darkened a church door.” 

“ Or Judge Burrall, either,” Mrs. Brownson 
remarked. “ I saw that he was one of the pall 
bearers.” 

“ How a man of Judge Burrall’s intellectual 
attainments, a worthy man too, can reconcile 
it with his conscience to neglect the things of 
religion the way he does is a mystery to me.” 

The other ladies looked safely condemnatory 
of Judge Burrall. 

‘‘ I can remember when Morgan and Macken- 
zie, and Si Thompson and Phil Thompson and 
Judge Burrall, only he wasn’t judge then, were 
all the greatest friends in the world,” said old 
Mrs. Allan. “ I don’t believe Silas Thompson 
has had a word with any of them for ten years.” 

“ How handsome Dr. Lanson looked to-day,” 
Mrs. Brownson said suddenly. “ I declare, Mrs. 
Lanson, I think the doctor grows better looking 
every year of his life!” 

Mrs. Lanson smiled with happy pride. “The 
Doctor wore his new suit,” she confided to the 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 157 

sewing society. “ We felt that he ought to have 
one for the meeting of the synod next week.’^ 

‘‘ I don’t believe the Doctor needed a new suit 
half as much as she does/’ Mrs. Brownson 
whispered to her next neighbor. “ I really think 
Mrs. Lanson is too unselfish.” 

“ Wasn’t it clever of Sally Van Besten to devise 
hiding the piecing with broadcloth letters ? ” 
Mrs. Lanson said appreciatively. “ Now I never 
would have thought of that.” 

“Poor Sally ! ” sighed one of her friends. “I don’t 
see how she ever manages to keep so cheerful.” 

“ Do you suppose she knows ? ” Mrs. Arnold 
lowered her voice mysteriously. 

“ Knows what ? ” someone asked. 

“ Oh, all the horrid things people are saying 
about Mr. Van Besten’s past life.” 

Rumors concerning William Van Besten’s sup- 
posed misconduct had found their way to Manor- 
ton. Perry Herter for one had brought them 
down with the mailbag. The black sheep had 
heard William’s character discussed in the hotel 
bar-room, and had held Mrs. Van Besten justified 
in her peculiar conduct. 

“ Poor Sally!” someone commented. 

Sally was with them again, the roll of bulF broad- 
cloth in her hand. The ladies had not noticed 
her quick, light approach. The awkward lull in 
conversation betrayed that they were slightly dis- 
concerted. Sally’s manner had changed. “ Here 
it is,” she said briefly. 


158 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Mrs. Brownson rallied. “ We didn’t dare cut 
out the banner until you came, Sally. You do 
it. Here are the shears.” 

Sally proceeded to devote herself to the Sunday 
School banner, to the discussion which text to 
adopt. All the time she knew that she was 
working half-heartedly and that she was no longer 
at peace with herself. She was not entirely able 
to forget William’s reproachful look. A slight 
discomfort gnawed her heart. 

Mrs. Arnold insisted upon “Christ is Risen,” 
as most economical of Sally Van Besten’s broad- 
cloth. As the other ladies quickly pointed out, 
this was adapted only to Easter, while the one 
banner must do duty upon all occasions. 

“ Oh be Joyful in the Lord” was finally adopted 
as suitable and cheerful, and capable of covering 
a great deal of piecing. 

The shadows of the early autumn twilight 
admonished the sewing society that it was time 
to go home to tea. The Sunday School banner 
was laid aside on the bed on Mrs. Lanson’s spare 
room for completion next week. 

Sally noticed how tired Mrs. Lanson looked 
and lingered to help her pick up. No use hurry- 
ing home now. Of course William must have 
left long ago. Most unreasonably olfended, too. 

Mrs. Lanson stood by the table collecting the 
pretty purple left-over scraps. “ Purple used to 
be my color when I was young and had pink 
cheeks.” She smiled apologetically at thus 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 159 

recalling that long vanished young girl who had 
had time and inclination for pretty things — the 
girl whom the minister had married. 

“ It would be becoming to you yet,” said 
Sally. An inspiration came to her. “ Let me 
make you a bonnet from these scraps, Mrs. 
Lanson Will you ? Oh, yes, I can. They’re 
not a bit of good for anything else.” 

Mrs. Lanson gave an embarassed little laugh 
and a dull flush came to her cheeks. “ My dear, 
I haven’t had a new bonnet for four years.” 

“ Then it’s high time you did,” Sally insisted. 
“ Let me try. I’m sure it’s just as important 
that you should be well dressed as that the minister 
should.” 

“ Oh, no, it isn’t,” said Mrs. Lanson gently. 
“ You needn’t look so pityingly, my dear. I’m a 
very happy woman, yes really, in spite of my 
old bonnet.” She regarded the well-worn cush- 
ions on the doctor’s easy chair, worn to such 
suggestive conformity with his figure that she 
could almost see him sitting there. She regarded 
her big work-basket, its pile of ragged hose 
continually augmented by her healthy, heedless 
boys. She regarded the unfortunate tear in her 
black skirt which always would show in spite 
of her skilful repairing. Then she looked brightly 
at Sally as one who felt that she deserved envy 
rather than pity. “ You don’t understand, Sally. 
One has compensations.” 

She looked thoughtful. I wonder if it would 


i6o AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


be wrong to make a bonnet out of the church pall ?” 

“ Of course it isn’t wrong. What else could 
you do with such scraps except thrust them into 
the rag-bag ? ” Sally argued. 

But perhaps I ought to speak to the Doctor 
first.” Mrs. Lanson evidently inclined strongly 
toward the new bonnet. 

“ No, don’t,” Sally advised. “ What does the 
minister know about bonnets ? Let’s surprise 
him. He’ll be pleased, you see if he won’t. Why, 
Joe is just delighted when Annie appears in some- 
thing that’s specially becoming.” 

A wistful self-knowledge tinged Mrs. Lanson’s 
thin face. “ Yes, but then Mrs. Haselton’s so 
young and pretty.” 

Sally felt touched by the self-abnegation of the 
minister’s wife. “ So are you, only you don’t 
half do yourself justice,” she exclaimed warmly. 

Mrs. Lanson laughed cheerfully. “ You see, 
we’re as poor as the proverbial parson’s family. 
There’s never a dollar to spare. I know it is 
disgraceful to wear that old bonnet in the face 
and eyes of the congregation any longer; but 
you see there are always so many things that the 
Doctor and the children absolutely need.” Per- 
haps she caught a suggestion of unkindly criticism 
in Sally’s face, divined toward whom it was 
directed. “ But that isn’t the Doctor’s fault, 
or the boys’,” she added quickly. 

“ Well, I’m coming over right after supper, 
and make that bonnet,” Sally promised. 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL i6i 


Mrs. Lanson followed Sally out to the front 
steps. “ Sally dear, you mustn’t mind what 
people say. I’m sure you overheard this after- 
noon and I’m dreadfully afraid you were hurt. 
But everybody thinks the world of you. Nobody 
blames you.” She spoke fervently. 

“ No. That’s just what’s the trouble,” Sally 
said stonily. “ Mrs. Lanson, people are very 
cruel and unjust in what they say of Mr. Van 
Besten.” 

Mrs. Lanson looked at her affectionately. 
“ Well, we all know what you are, Sally dear — 
a woman any man might be glad and proud to 
have for his wife.” 

“ Oh, don’t, please don’t.” Sally’s voice was 
unsteady. The sound which she meant for a 
laugh sounded more like a sob. “ I’m really 
horrid,” she declared tremulously. “ You haven’t 
found it out, but I really am or it never would 
have happened. You see, you don’t know what 

an awful idiot I was. If you did Her 

voice, vibrating with conviction, broke. 

Mrs. Lanson longed to comfort. She laid a 
loving arm around Sally. “ You mustn’t mind 
what people say.” 

“ I don’t,” said Sally proudly, and hurried away. 

She hurried home. She closed the front gate 
quietly behind her. Perhaps she did not quite 
admit to herself that she was reconnoitering a 
possibility as she went up the path. The gas was 
lighted in the sitting-room and so was the lamp 


i 62 an interrupted HONEYMOON 


upon the centre table. Sally, herself unseen, 
saw William Van Besten and her brother Joe 
sitting there together. Annie doubtless was pre- 
paring supper. William must be going to stay 
to supper. Sally smiled to herself out there in 
the twilight. It was rather gratifying that William 
should care to see her as much as that. 

Still, as chance fell, it was unfortunate, too, 
for like Casabianca, Sally was resolute not to 
forsake the task in hand. As she went slowly 
up the steps, she was thinking busily: “At any 
rate I must be as nice to him as I possibly can 
until its time for me to start again.’’ 

At her entrance, William rose with a con- 
strained smile. “ I’m still here, you see.” 

“ I’m very glad.” 

“ What in the world made you stay so long, 
Sally, girl ? ” Joseph greeted her with cheerful 
impatience. 

“ I’m sorry to say that I haven’t finished even 
now,” Sally hastened to inform him. “ I’ve 
promised to go back after supper.” 

“What! Really, Sally ” Mrs. Haselton 

spoke in helpless disapproval. “ Why do you 
have to .? I don’t think you ought to. Here’s 
William been waiting the whole afternoon. It’s 
a shame!” 

“ That is of no consequence,” William said 
quickly. 

“ Yes, it is,” Sally said regretfully. “ I’m 
dreadfully sorry, William —sorry things hap- 


THE FATE OF A CHURCH PALL 163 

pened so unfortunately. If only this wasn’t Satur- 
day night. You see, it’s something that ought to 
he done by Sunday, and I’ve promised to do it.” 

“ I understand,” William said, with severe 
self-control. 

A gloom rested upon the company which Sally’s 
effort at gay conversation did not entirely dispel. 
Shortly after they had left the supper table, 
William Van Besten said good night. 

“ It seems horrid of me to leave you in this 
unceremonious way,” Sally said, with anxious 
kindness, “but you see duty calls.” She smiled 
propitiatingly. “ William, I hope you aren’t 
vexed ? ” 

“ No. I should be very sorry to disarrange 
your plans.” 

“ Come again when it isn’t sewing society day,” 
Sally bade. “ I’ll try to do better.” 

“ Thank you, Sally,” William said stiffly. 


CHAPTER XII 


A BLACK SHEEP FALLS OUT 


ILLIAM VAN BESTEN needed nothing 



▼ V to remind him of Manorton. Yet, singularly 
enough, reminder of that pleasant hamlet came to 
him every day. He saw Perry Herter’s mail- 
wagon jogging through the street, or Manorton 
customers came to the store. The morning that 
Judge Burrall overtook him on the way into 
Kirton and walked along with him, almost the 
first thing the Judge said was: “ Tm obliged 
to drive down to Manorton this afternoon.” 

“ You don’t get down that way very often, I 
suppose,” William said carelessly. 

“ No, Mr. Harlan Morgan has sent for me. 
He is seriously ill, or he thinks so at any rate, and 
he wants a legal adviser about some matter or 
other.” The Judge sighed. “ Strange how folks 
drift apart. Morgan and I used to be much 
together.” He sighed again. 

‘‘ How are you going .? Let me drive you 
down,” William offered with alacrity. It was 
only three days since his last call upon the 


164 


A BLACK SHEEP FALLS OUT 165 

Haselton’s and he had not meant to return 
quite so soon. But circumstances alter cases. 

The Judge demurred politely. ‘‘Very good of 
you, but I hardly like to involve you — I may be 

detained — ^you might have a tedious wait ’’ 

“ I shan’t mind waiting,” William said decidedly. 
“ Yes, ril take you down with pleasure. My 
horse isn’t exercised half enough and I’ll enjoy 
the drive. What time shall we start ” 

His clerks regarded him with surprise as he 
passed through the store to his office. For Mr. Van 
Besten omitted his usual tour of inspection, and 
he was humming, actually humming to himself. 

“ I don’t suppose I’ll be ’wanted here over an 
hour,” Judge Burral said as he and William 
Van Besten stopped in front of the Manorton 
hotel. The Judge looked sad and thoughtful, 
as though feeling the weight of the years that 
had separated him from his one-time friend. 

“ Pray suit your own convenience. Judge,” 
William told him politely. “ Meantime, I’ll look 
around a little, and pay a call. I’m not in 
the slightest hurry. You’ll probably find me 
somewhere about the hotel whenever you wish to 
start.” 

The Judge entered the bar-room. The circle 
there, to whom time was nothing, lazily expectant 
of any happening, had an unusually sober aspect 
that afternoon. Most of them had some slight 
acquaintance with Judge Burrall. They nodded 
recognition. 


i66 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


Mr. Stetson, the proprietor of the hotel, stood 
leaning nonchalently on the bar. The Judge 
walked up to him. “ Good afternoon. How is 
Mr. Morgan .? ” he asked. 

Mr. Stetson shook his head forebodingly. “ I 
guess Mr. Morgan’s a pretty sick man. The 
doctor’s just left. He said he’d look in again 
presently. I don’t believe he thinks there’s 
much chance of his ever getting up again.” 

“ Is it possible that it’s as bad as that } ” The 
Judge felt a sudden shock, a sudden sense of 
impending loss, which was singular, as he had 
not been intimate with Harlan Morgan for over 
thirty years. “ Who takes care of him ? ” 

“ He’s taken care of all right,” Mr. Stetson 
assured him. “ We all lend a hand. Mr. Mack- 
enzie, he’s with him most all the while. Mrs. 
Van Besten, she’s here a good deal, too. Morris, 
my son, and I do what we can to make him 
comfortable. He doesn’t lack for care, if that 
would cure him. But it won’t.” 

“ I wonder if he’s well enough to see me. Will 
you send up word I’m here ^ ” the Judge requested 
shortly and sat down in the bar-room to wait. 

Meantime, William Van Besten walked over 
to the Haselton’s and rang the bell. Mrs. Hasel- 
ton opened the door. “ How do you do, Wil- 
liam,” she said, with an involuntary look of 
surprise. “ Come right in.” 

William looked quickly about as he obeyed. 


A BLACK SHEEP FALLS OUT 167 

“Sally’s out, but she won’t be gone long. I ex- 
pect her home every minute.” 

“ Where has she gone ” asked William, as 
he sat down. 

“ She is over at the hotel, helping take care 
of Mr. Morgan. He’s very sick, you know. 
I’m afraid he isn’t going to get well.” 

“ That’s too bad,” William said, with entirely 
perfunctory sympathy. What did he care whether 
old Harlan Morgan lived or died ^ What he 
really felt was too bad was that Sally should 
always be engaged with something else, somebody 
else. Why didn’t she stay home and attend to 
her own affairs 

Mr. Harlan Morgan was ill, very ill. When 
people asked the doctor how his patient was, the 
doctor pursed up his lips ominously and answered: 
“ He may pull through this time,” in a way that 
left no doubt of his opinion. To a few, the 
doctor said confidentially: “ Of course his habits 
are against him. His constitution is entirely 
undermined.” 

Mr. Allen Mackenzie was a pitiful figure in 
the eyes of Manorton as he went desolately alone 
between his house and the hotel. He was not 
seen often, for he spent most of his time at the 
hotel, sitting hour after hour in his friend’s dreary 
little bedchamber. 

The two men had not a great deal to say to 
each other. Their eyes avoided meeting. Once, 
as Allen Mackenzie sat there, miserably pre- 


i68 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


tending to look out of the window, the sick man 
raised his head from the pillow. “ Well, Al, I 
guess the game’s about played out,” he said 
jocularly. 

“ Don’t talk like that. You’re better. The 
doctor said this morning the fever had gone 
down.” Allen Mackenzie’s voice was rough 
with pain. 

“Shucks!” said Morgan, dropping his feeble 
head back upon the pillow. 

Acquaintances were kind. They sent messages 
of sympathy or wine jelly. “ They’re kind 
enough now that they’re going to get rid of me,” 
the invalid growled. He did not mean the bitter 
speech to apply to his friends Allen Mackenzie 
or Millie Thompson or Sally Van Besten. 

The invalid watched the dejected figure by 
the window. “Al.” 

“ Yes, Harl.” 

“ Don’t sit there any longer. Go along out. 
Take a walk. Get some air in your lungs, man. 
Isn’t it bad enough for one of us to be penned up 
in this miserable coop .? ” 

“ I’d rather stay.” 

The sick man moved restlessly from side to 
side. “ Go along and get some fresh air. The 
girls will look after me. I’ll promise not to give 
up the ship while you’re gone.” 

“ Don’t joke about that,” groaned Allen 
Mackenzie. 

The eyes of the two men met in a look that 


A BLACK SHEEP FALLS OUT 169 

penetrated all subterfuge on either side. Allen 
Mackenzie left the room. 

“It's time for your medicine," Sally said. She 
slipped her vigorous arm gently under his pillow and 
lifted his head, pillow and all. She did not under- 
stand the smile with which he accepted her minis- 
trations. Neither she nor Millie had ever realized 
how very singular it seemed to Harlan Morgan 
to have these kind, tender women doing for him — 
for him who had lived untended so many years. 

His eyes unnaturally bright, under bony ema- 
ciated brows, looked into her eager face with a sort 
of eager appeal. 

“I got rid of A 1 on purpose to have a word 
with you two." 

“Did you, Mr. Morgan? Is there something 
you’d like to have us do ? " 

“Yes," he said energetically. “You two’ll 
have to look after him you know, when — ^when 
this is over." 

“You may be sure we will." Her face grew 
suffused with sympathy as she bent over him. 

Millie, too, had come to the bedside. “Of 
course we’ll do everything we can for Uncle Al. 
But you mustn’t feel discouraged about yourself, 
Mr. Morgan. You’ll soon be better." 

Her honest eyes fell before his penetrating look. 
She had the shamed feeling of one detected in 
deceit. “You’ll never make a good liar, my 
dear," he told her cheerfully. “I’ll soon be dead. 
You can’t look me in the face and say you don’t 


lyo AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


know it. There, there, my child. Never mind. 
I didn’t mean to make you feel badly. I know 
how kind you mean to be. But what’s the use 
of talking about me ? I’m a back number.” He 
pursed up his lips as though he were going to 
whistle. Then he went on with obvious effort to 
be matter of fact. “You see, your Uncle A1 is 
bound to miss me. We’ve had the habit of each 
other so long. I hope you’ll do all you can to 
make him forget how lonely he is.” 

Millie touched his hand tenderly with her own. 
“Yes, indeed, I will. You needn’t worry about 
that,” she answered him fervently. “We’ll get 
Uncle A1 to come and live with Morris and me. 
He shan’t stay in that dreary old house all by 
himself.” 

But Mr. Morgan shook his restless head. 
“No, no, that isn’t what he’ll want. He wouldn’t 
be happy to do that. He’d think himself a 
burden. No, it’s much wiser for him to keep on 
in his own independent way. Only let him have 
the run of your house, and encourage him to feel 
that somebody cares about him. That’s the best 
you can do for him, and it’s a great deal.” 

“What’s that?” He looked eagerly toward 
the door at the sound of a tap. 

When Sally opened the door he strained his 
ears to catch the whispered announcement. 
“Judge Burrall ? That’s good. That’s good. 
I’m glad he’s got here. Tell ’em to wait five 
minutes and then show him up.” 


A BLACK SHEEP FALLS OUT 171 

The announcement seemed to put new life into 
him. A tinge of color spread over his sharpened 
features. He glanced critically around the dingy, 
characterless little room. Sally Van Besten had 
spread fair linen covers on stands and dresser. 
“ Is the room decent ’’ he questioned eagerly. 
“Here, give me a clean handkerchief, will you, 
Mrs. Van Besten .? You and Millie won’t mind 
if I ask you and Millie to leave us ? It’s just a 
little matter of business, you see.” 

With his accustomed professional urbanity 
sitting easily upon him, looking, as always, confi- 
dent, well dressed, successful. Judge Burrall came 
into the sick-room. He seemed to take up a 
good deal of the small space as he came forward. 

“ Good afternoon, Morgan. I had your note and 
here I am, you see. Very sorry to find you in bed.” 

“Glad to see you. Judge. Very good of you 
to come so promptly.” 

As the Judge took the thin hand the other held 
out, he felt a strong impulse of pity for this old 
friend, once as promising a youth as he himself 
had been, who yet had made so pronounced a 
failure of his life. 

“ How are you to-day ? ” 

Harlan Morgan’s answering smile had a tinge 
of triumphant acquiescence to the will of the 
Powers. 

“Well, Judge, I guess I’ve pretty nearly reached 
the end of my tether.” 

^‘Oh, you mustn’t feel that way. You mustn’t 


172 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

lose heart, man. You must keep up your courage. 
That’s half the battle, you know.” The Judge’s 
kindly platitudes sounded cheap and pitiful in 
his own ears. He found himself unable to go 
on in this vein of meaningless encouragement. 
His manner became simple and sincere as he 
drew a chair up to the bedside and sat down. 

“What is there I can do for you, Harl ” 

The sick man stared up at him thoughtfully, 
his brow seamed with reflections. Finally he 
said slowly, “Of course, I have precious little to 
leave, but still there is a little something. A1 
thinks I want it to go to Phil’s girl, Millie. 
If I said a word about giving it to him, he’d 
flare up at once and declare he wouldn’t have 
it. A1 is very peculiar about such things, 
you know. It’s only a miserable pittance any- 
way. It’ll seem hardly worth bothering about 
to you.” He gave his successful contemporary 
a look of proud humiliation. “But it’s enough 
to ease things up considerably for Al. I want 
the matter fixed up without his knowing any- 
thing about it.” 

He moved uneasily, oppressed by his helpless- 
ness. His long, delicate, artist fingers toyed 
nervously with the bed-clothes. 

“I drew up a kind of last will and testament 
myself when I was first taken ill. I’ll have to 
ask you to wait on yourself if you will be so good. 
It’s in that writing desk on top of the wardrobe. 
If you’ll just reach it down. Yes, that’s it, thank 


A BLACK SHEEP FALLS OUT 173 

you. Look it over, will you, and see if it’s all 
right ” 

As the Judge slowly read the document, the 
other watched his face. 

‘‘Yes, that appears perfectly correct. It is 
very clearly expressed.” The Judge refolded the 
paper. “You’re a lawyer spoiled, Harl,” he 
complimented. 

I Harlan Morgan uttered a quick sigh. “I’m 
I whatever I was meant to be — spoiled, God knows.” 

I “This will has to be signed and witnessed,” 
i the Judge reminded him. 

“Yes, I know it has. Call in some of the 
: Stetsons, will you. And see here, Ned, will you 
; take charge of it yourself until it’s wanted ? ” 

I “Yes, I will, willingly; and if there’s anything 
j else I can do, Harl — — ” The old friendship was 
alive in the steady straightforward look the two 
i men gave each other. 

I Meantime, Mrs. Haselton was doing her 
j amiable best to entertain her visitor, but 
I William was visibly absent-minded. He forgot 
j to respond to her remarks, and then recol- 
j lecting himself, answered so abruptly that he 
almost made her jump. Happily he did not 
have to wait long. 

“There she is!” Annie exclaimed in accents 
of relief. 

With a sober, downcast look at the world, 
Sally walked briskly up the path. Her mind was 
filled with sorrowful thought for the two old 


1 74 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

friends now facing separation, of the long ostra- 
cism in which they had lived. ^ 

“ Oh, I wonder why we aren’t always good and |i 
kind and forbearing to each other, with this — this i; 
hanging over us all the time,” she thought pas- • 
sionately. Tears came smarting to her eyes at |j 
recollection of the tragic, silent patience with 1 
which Allen Mackenzie watched his friend. Sally 
swallowed down the useless tears. She forced 
herself to think about the accumulation of neglected 
work waiting for her upstairs. “I must hustle. 

I mustn’t waste another minute or I’ll never be 
able to catch up.” 

“Sally, William’s here,” Annie called to her 
from the parlor. 

William here again so soon! Sally’s soberness 
fled. She came brightly to greet him. Annie, 
with sense of happy relief, went oflF to carry out 
her own little plans for the afternoon. 

William showed some disinclination to part 
with Sally’s hand, so she drew it sedately away. 

“I hear you’ve been acting as sick nurse,” he 
said. 

“Yes, a little.” Sally sighed. “William, isn’t 
it pitiful to be ill, dying, in a dreary, unhomelike 
place like a hotel The Stetsons mean to be 
kind. They are kind, but it’s so dreary! Well, 
let’s talk about something more cheerful.” 

Sally put up both hands and adjusted her glossy 
brown braids. “The wind has made me dread- 
fully untidy.” 


A BLACK SHEEP FALLS OUT 175 


William looked at her steadily. 

“Gracious, William! You mustn’t stare me 
out of countenance like that,” she gaily com- 
plained. 

In the Haselton parlor, two pleasantly occupied 
people quite lost sight of their responsibilities to 
the rest of the world. Upstairs, Sally’s work still 
lay unfinished. Sally was usually prompt and 
conscientious, but to-day she was basely sacri- 
ficing on the altar of William the convenience of 
her true and tried patrons. She did jump up 
guiltily when the front gate banged. 

“ Oh, dear, there come those people to be fitted ! 
I’m not a bit ready for them either.” 

“Tell them so and let them go home,” William 
advised. 

She laughed at the suggestion. 

“Oh, no, I can’t do that, William; you’ll have 
to excuse me for a little while. I’ll call Annie to 
entertain you.” 

“No, don’t. I can entertain myself. You 
won’t be very long ? ” His look was a request. 

“Not very. Help yourself to a book, if you 
care about reading.” 

Her manner was kind, apologetic. 

Out in the front yard the two ladies had paused 
to admire Mrs. Haselton’s flowers. William had 
risen. He came close to her, caught up her 
hand lightly, and looked into her face, with his 
own very close to it. 

“No, please don’t be long,” he said, with a 


176 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

kind of jesting entreaty that was serious too. 
“ Don’t forget all about me waiting for you down 
here.” 

Sally breathed quickly. She looked back at 
him in a startled way. Then, “William, hush!” 
she said quickly, for the front door was opening. 
He still held her hand. “Really, William, they’ll 
see you!” She shut him carefully into the parlor 
as she went away. 

William, left to himself, did not read. He 
walked up and down the room or stared out of 
the windows. He could hear faintly the rise and 
fall of earnest voices and the tread of feet in the 
room overhead. Now and then he pulled out 
his watch. Why did those women stay so long .? 
What could they be about all this while ? Wil- 
liam’s expression grew grimmer and grimmer as 
he waited. For a busy man he was certainly 
doing a good deal of waiting these days. William 
picked up his hat uncertainly. Well, he needn’t 
wait. Why not hunt up Annie and explain that 
he’d leave his good-bye for Sally and step over 
to the hotel .? Still he waited. 

Sally was trying to be as expeditious as possible. 
Mrs. Brownson and Mrs. Wynne saw no reason 
for haste. Weighty matters concerning their 
new dresses had to be decided. That accom- 
plished, they insisted upon discussing Mr. Mor- 
gan’s illness and what was going to become of 
Allen Mackenzie. Sally had difficulty in con- 
cealing her impatience. 


A BLACK SHEEP FALLS OUT 177 

They went away at last. Sally returned to the 
parlor. There was no denying that William 
looked cross. 

“ Didn’t they stay an unconscionable time ? ” 
she began brightly. “I thought they wouldn’t 
go until they discussed everything under the 
shining sun.” William felt that Sally was charm- 
ing in her frank effort to mollify. He was aware 
of contradictions within himself. The pleasantest 
course would be to yield to this bright, propitiating 
kindliness. Sally had said it was not her fault. 
Of course it was not her fault. Yet something 
within William refused to be so easily mollified, 
to lose sight of the fact that other affairs, her 
work, her kind acts to others, took precedence of 
him. So the easy, cheerful William, with whom 
companionship had been so pleasant the last 
time, and the time before that, and the time 
before that, quite disappeared. He found no 
fault, but his manner was constrained and coldly 
courteous. With amused vexation, she perceived 
his change of mood. 

William rose stiffly. “ I ought not to keep Judge 
Burrall waiting any longer.” 

“Judge Burrall?” She looked surprised. 

“He’s over at the hotel,” William concisely 
explained. “I drove him down. Mr. Morgan 
sent for him, I believe.” 

“He wants me to understand that he didn’t 
come just on purpose to see me,” Sally thought. 
“Come again when you can. I’ll try not to be 


178 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


so busy next time.” Surely she was making all 
possible amends. 

“Thank you.” William tried to smile naturally. 

Sally looked after him with an odd mingling 
of amusement and disappointment. 

William, for his part, as he went after his horse, 
knew that he would have to come soon again if 
only to obliterate the unsatisfactory impression 
of this call. No sooner was he away from her 
than he was shamed of himself for his own churl- 
ishness. 


CHAPTER XIII 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 


‘jyjR. VAN BESTEN, 


that invoice from 

New York has come.” 

“Very well,” William answered shortly. 

The clerk hesitated. “Do you want it opened 
now or left until you can attend to it yourself? ” 

In a manner restive of interruption, Mr. Van 
Besten pulled a sheaf of papers from a pigeon 
hole of his desk. He selected one and held it 
out. “Get them opened. Here’s the bill. 
Check off the items as you get them out. Make 
sure everything’s all right. First tell Tom to go 
to the stable and fetch my horse around.” 

“Very well, sir.” 

William turned back to his work. He had sat 
at his desk all the morning, had neglected nothing 
of the wonted routine. He did not mean to sit 
there any longer. The tingling autumn sunshine 
called him. He meant to drive down to Manorton 
and call on Sally. He thoughtfully, clear-sightedly 
reviewed the situation between himself and her. 
A very pleasant friendship. That was what they 
179 


i8o AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


had established and what he wished to maintain. 
For there were reasons, — ^William set his lips, — 
potent reasons why there could be no resumption 
of the old relationship. He had often reviewed 
them of late, at home alone in the evening. 
Once he uttered a fierce groan and struck his hand 
down on the table with a bang that roused the 
yellow cats from their serene slumbers. There were 
limitations, but what he might have, he would 
take. This habit of thinking: ‘T wonder what 
Sally would say to that ? I must tell Sally. Til 
go down and have a talk with Sally,” was strength- 
ening very fast. It warmed his days with expec- 
tancy. How buoyant she was. How sensible. 
She would not misunderstand. She had defined 
her own position so clearly — made a busy, useful 
life for herself. Life was a compromise at best. 
What he wanted more than anything else at the 
moment was to see her, see that odd brightening 
of her eyes when she offered him her hand, sit 
with her for an hour or so in the homelike room, 
and forget other things. 

As he drove along, he saw a group of boys 
thrashing a walnut tree. The nuts pelted down 
like hail. He passed a group of chestnut trees. 
Their leaves were turning sere, but their clustering 
burrs were still green. The burrs were fast 
opening and shedding the plump, glossy nuts 
from their white satin linings. William had not 
been nutting since he was a boy. It occurred to 
him that he would like to presuade Sally forth 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST i8i 


upon one of these gold-flecked afternoons to 
act as though they were boy and girl again. They 
would wade noisily through russet leaves and he 
would open recalcitrant burrs with a stone for a 
hammer. Sally must bring a bag or a basket, 
and they would laugh and be merry while they 
harvested. Sally would throw herself whole- 
heartedly into the sport. She would work as 
though to collect as many chestnuts as possible 
was her aim in life. Her cheeks would grow 
bright with air and exercise. She would be 
merry and brisk. Such an afternoon with Sally 
in the fields would be exhileration to a man. 

What was it that set her apart from every other 
woman, endowed her with peculiar charm ? 
William did not know. 

When they met, William regarded her quickly 
to see if he were welcome. She never told him he 
was, but face and hand gave him the assurance 
he craved. It was astonishing how much they 
found to say to each other. 

Why did his pulse beat so fast when she took 
little intrusive Joe to her breast, and her face 
bending over him, grow so beautifully tender ^ 
He could not bear to look on any longer. She 
looked up, startled by his abrupt movement, 
for he took to walking quickly up and down the 
room, and his long arms looked tense, unnatural. 
She did not know that he felt a fierce desire to 
oust little Joe and clasp her in his arms. She set 
the boy down on the floor with a kiss. “Run 


i 82 an interrupted HONEYMOON 


away, darling, and see what mother’s doing.” 
Noting William’s perturbed expression, she won- 
dered if he disliked children. 

“When are you going to come up and let me 
show you my collection ? ” 

With a delicious sense of domination, Sally 
perceived the earnestness of the question. Ah! 
he wanted her up there! The simple pleasure of 
showing her over his old house was matter of 
importance to him. He urged her coming. His 
look was singularly eager. It called her to look 
at him. “Let me read what is in your mind,” 
it seemed to demand. Sometimes his look aroused 
her antagonism, made her brightly baffling as 
though she would convey: “No, no, — ^you have 
no right to know.” 

Sally would not yield even when it would have 
been easier to do so. Sometimes it was very hard 
not to yield, to withhold her hand from the strong 
hand so ready to grasp it. She wanted to keep 
their intercourse on the basis of a light, easy 
friendliness. It was welcome to her, this return 
of William, after their years of separation. What 
did it mean ? She stifled the question. She did 
not want to know. But she realized that before 
his return, her days of uninterrupted dressmaking 
had been intolerably humdrum. Of course, people 
noticed William’s visits. Sally could imagine 
the things they must be saying. She developed 
a certain brazeness of disregard. She felt airily 
superior to her customers’ complaints, when 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 183 

visiting with William put business out of gear. 
Of course she ought to have been ready. It 
was abominable to disappoint people, and yet 
she knew that if William came inopportunely she 
might do so again. This sure pleasure that had 
fallen upon her she could not afford to throw 
away. Sally had her little theories concerning 
it. After awhile she and William would settle 
down into a satisfying jog trot kind of friendship 
saved out of the wreck of other things. Or was 
another solution possible ? She pushed the thought 
away. All she asked at the moment was to drift 
on in this new companionship. 

“When will you come ? ’’ 

Involuntarily Sally pushed back her chair a 
little in retreating from his look. 

“Some day soon.’’ 

“Come to-morrow, do come to-morrow. Please.” 
William was as coaxing as though she were a child. 

Sally gazed at him abstractedly as her mind 
ran over her professional cares — the fittings that 
would have to be postponed, the dress that was 
to have been finished this week. Mrs. Wynne 
would have to wait a little longer. Sally believed 
in all sincerity that it was more important in 
the general scheme of things that she and William 
should have a happy day than that the gown 
should be delivered on schedule time. But she 
toyed with William’s desire. 

“My customers!” 

“Tell them to keep away. Just for a day., 


i 84 an interrupted HONEYMOON 


Won’t you do as much as that ? ” He would not 
accept the hint of her little withdrawal. He drew 
his chair close to hers again. When he spoke 
again his voice was less clear, less playful. “I 
want you to come, — so much,” he whispered 
huskily. “Won’t you come ? ” 

Sally drew a quick breath. What singular 
spell was enervating her ? 

“Yes, I will come,” she promised softly. 

Some quick instinct of revolt prompted her 
change the atmosphere. “See here, William. 
Listen. I don’t want you to think me rude or 
inhospitable. Of course, it’s very pleasant to 
sit here chatting with you.” She smiled. “I’d 
much rather, than go upstairs and toil and moil 
over people’s clothes. But then we mustn’t 
forget that I’m a business woman. I’m primarily 
a dressmaker, and I haven’t any right to shirk 
my work. Now, have I ? ” 

“I suppose not,” William admitted reluctantly. 
“Not usually, that is. But then everybody does 
treat with resolution once in awhile. Suppose 
you go on neglecting business just for this after- 
noon,” he suggested hopefully. 

“And again to-morrow? William Van Besten, 
that doesn’t sound a bit like you. You would 
never let your business suffer so that you could 
be lazy and enjoy yourself. You would do what 
you thought was your duty.” 

“I might not. I’m only a man, you know, 
not a wooden automaton. I do wrong. I make 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 185 

mistakes. I can’t profess to do the right and 
best thing always. I make mistakes. I have 
made mistakes ” William stopped abruptly. 

Sally was puzzled by the sudden infusion of 
seriousness in his manner. 

“Well, if I’m to go to Kirton to-morrow, you’ll 
have to let me go and work now,” she declared. 

William rose obediently. “I’ll look for you 
in the morning then. You’ll drive up with the 
mail wagon ” 

The next morning, Sally, rosy and cheerful, 
clad in her favorite blue, entered the store. 

As William came to meet her he looked less 
sedate than usual, his gray eyes sparkling. “I 
was on the lookout for you. I’m going to take 
you to the house in my buggy. Are you ready?” 

“Indeed I’m not,” she protested cheerfully. 
“Why, I’ve just this minute come. Look at that.” 
She unfurled a long list of shopping commissions. 

“Do you really need to get all those things 
to-day ? ” he enquired discontentedly. 

“I don’t think you’re a very enterprising mer- 
chant,” Sally laughed. “You ought to encourage 
me to buy. Never mind. I shan’t be very long.” 

It really was not easy to match samples, to 
decide between buttons, with William hovering 
near, so obviously impatient. Sally hurried all 
she could. But William thought her exasper- 
atingly absorbed in matters of unimportant detail. 

But William had been learning how to wait 
patiently. It really was not very long before 


i86 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


Sally nodded to him that she was ready. The 
clerks stared after their employer as he helped 
Sally into the buggy. Then he stepped in himself 
and drove off. With a farcical imitation of 
being limp with astonishment, a clerk at the drug 
goods counter threw himself against the shelves 
of goods. “Fan me!’’ he besought his asso- 
ciates. 

A short drive brought William and Sally to the 
Van Besten house. The front door was still 
barred by the Dutch Kaas, so William conducted 
her around to the side door. Remembering when 
she had been here last, a sense of guilt fell upon 
Sally. William noticed her slight confusion. 

Warm air gushed out at them as he opened the 
door. “Whew! Isn’t it hot? Will you excuse 
me a minute while I go down cellar and turn off 
the heat ? You see, I was afraid you might find 
the rooms chilly, so I started a furnace fire this 
morning,” William told her. 

Left to herself in the sitting-room, Sally looked 
around her for signs of William’s daily life. 

William joined her. He looked at her with delight. 
“ Come and tell me what you think of my dining- 
room furniture.” 

“I think it’s beautiful,” Sally said heartily. 

William looked at her in surprise. “Why, you 
haven’t seen it yet. Come look at it.” 

Impulsive Sally bit her lip as she followed him 
into the dining-room. If she stayed here long 
she would surely betray herself, reveal that pre-^ 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 187 

vious unlawful visit. The anxiety made her 
preoccupied. 

‘‘Now I think you’ve seen everything,” William 
said finally. He felt a change in her manner and 
grew anxious. Was he boring her ? 

Sally roused herself. “Tve enjoyed seeing it 
all ever so much. I always did love handsome 
old things. I think you’ve shown a great deal 
of taste in your selection, William.” 

William looked pleased. “I’ll tell you what I 
propose to do next. We’ll drive back to Kirton 
and have some lunch at the hotel. Then if you’ll 
let me. I’ll take you home.” 

The Kirton hotel did not allure Sally. The 
old house, with its strange furnishings, did. 
‘‘ Why don’t you give me a lunch here I ” she 
suggested gaily. “I’d really like to eat a meal 
from that magnificent mahogany.” 

“Would you? Well, then, you shall. But 
you’ll have to help me forage. I’m afraid there 
isn’t anything in the house fit to set before you,” 
he said anxiously. 

“Of course I’ll help.” 

“First, let’s see what there is out here.” Wil- 
liam opened the door into the cold closet beyond 
the kitchen. The latch was still adorned with a 
piece of his suspender. “But you mustn’t make 
fun of my housekeeping.” 

“No, I won’t.” Sally gathered her skirt close 
about her and stepped down into the long narrow 
closet between its rows of shelves. 


i88 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


“What’s in the paper bag ? Eggs ? William, 
ril make an omelet. You’ve butter, haven’t you ? 
Any bread ? ” 

“I guess there’s some bread in that tin box, but 
I’m afraid it’s rather stale,” William said doubt- 
fully. 

“Never mind, we don’t want it. I’ll stir up 
some popovers. They don’t take long to bake. 
William, you like popovers, don’t you ? ” 

“I do,” said William earnestly. 

“Well, hurry up the kitchen fire then. Get the 
oven hot as quick as you can.” 

“I’m afraid you’ll spoil your pretty dress.” 
William glanced admiringly at the blue costume. 

“No, I won’t. You just get me the biggest 
towel you have and I’ll pin it over my dress,” 
she told him. “Tell me, is there anything else 
to eat in this house ” 

“Come down cellar and see for yourself,” 
William answered happily. 

He fell into quite a poetical mood as he went at 
her side. She seemed so like a flower brightening 
the dim cellar, the dull house. He could not 
bear to remember that very soon she would go 
away. 

Sally was not in a poetical mood. “I smell 
ham.” She went sniffing about the cellar. “Wil- 
liam, that’s just what we want with our omelet, 
a slice of broiled ham. Aren’t we going to have 
a scrumptious lunch But we must get things 
going. Hurry up. I’m so hungry.” 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 189 

‘‘Coffee, let’s have coffee,” he suggested. 

“By all means,” she agreed. 

William started the kitchen fire. They set 
gaily to work. Together they set the table. 

But you need doilies,” Sallie commented. 
“William, I shall make you a present of a set 
of doilies. It’s wicked to cover up that beautiful 
table with a tablecloth, and it’s wicked to set hot 
dishes on the wood. Never mind. We’ll use 
folded napkins for to-day.” She was fertile in 
resource. William admiringly obeyed her sug- 
gestion. They went out together into the garden 
back of the house, and gathered from under 
frost-bitten leaves fragrant green parsley to gar- 
nish the omelet. 

“Now for the popovers. Where do you keep 
your flour, William ? ” Sally turned back her 
sleeves from her capable white hands. Her 
dexterous activity fascinated William. 

While they were waiting for the popovers to 
bake, Sally went into the dining-room and gave 
the carpet a hasty scrutiny. 

“What are you looking for.?” William asked. 

“Nothing,” answered Sally. That was true. 
There was no longer any grease spot under the 
table. The benzine had done its work. 

“Excuse me just a minute.” William lighted 
a candle and hurried down cellar. Sally was 
beginning to wonder what he was about down 
there, when a crash of breaking glass, a dis- 
mayed exclamation, resounded through the house. 


190 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“What is it ? What have you done ? ’’ she cried 
running down the cellar stairs. William’s candle 
made a very little point of light from the depth 
of the inner cellar. He looked toward her sheep- 
ishly. In his haste in trying to extricate a par- 
ticular bottle of his mother’s home-made wine, 
he had heedlessly knocked off a couple of bottles 
from the edge of the shelf. The wine had splashed 
over him as the bottles fell against each other. 
It lay ruddily on the concrete floor with a litter 
of broken glass. 

Quick as a flash Sally stripped off her towel 
apron. “Here, William. Wipe your coat as 
quick as you can before it soaks in.” She drew 
close and examined the cloth anxiously, and laid 
her fingers lightly against the wetness. Then 
she looked up at him. “I don’t believe it’s going 
to spot,” she assured him earnestly. 

“I don’t care whether it does or not,” William 
said recklessly. He looked so mischievously dis- 
posed to lay hands upon her that Sally flushed 
and drew back. 

“What a mess!” she exclaimed, looking down 
at the floor. “Careless fellow!” she reproved. 
Her look, her tone, made their merry comradery 
all at once more intimate. 

“My popovers! My popovers! in the oven all 
this time!” She rushed away and William hurried 
after her. 

“There, what do you think of those?” She 
held out a plate heaped high with golden brown 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST igi 

popovers. Her cheeks were flushed from prox- 
imity with the kitchen fire. Short locks of her 
bright hair lay moist on her temples. The 
broiled ham filled the air with an appetizing aroma. 

“ I only hope they’ll taste as good as they look,” 
William said solemnly. “Do you suppose they 
can ^ It would be awful to have them turning 
out like California fruit, beautiful to look at and 
no flavor to amount to anything.” 

“Don’t be alarmed. Set them on the table, 
will you please .? Is the coffee ready .? Oh, how 
good everything smells! I’m going to cook the 
omelet now, and then we’ll feast.” Her tone 
showed hearty antLcipation of pleasure. 

William carried the popovers into the dining- 
room as he was bidden. His brow was unruffled. 
The cares of everyday had fled away from this 
warm atmosphere of cheer. 

“William, will you come and hold the dish for 
the omelet ? ” Sally called. “Why, who’s that .? ” 

For someone had knocked at the side door, a 
timid, yet peremptory rap. Sally’s face clouded 
as she stood on the dining-room threshold. “I’ll 
just keep out of sight in the kitchen,” she said 
quickly. “You won’t bring anyone in this way 
It doesn’t matter much, only people are so silly.” 
She looked troubled. 

“All right, Sally.” William went to open the 
door. He felt no foreboding. He was light- 
hearted. Any interruption was bound to be irk- 
some, but doubtless he could quickly dispose of 


192 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


this one. He opened the door. Then he stepped ! 
back. His expression grew cold, repellant. He i 
might have known. In an instant he had said 
passionately to himself that something like this 
was bound to happen sooner or later. 

A young woman stepped hurriedly into the hall, i 
She was tall, slender, agitated. Beautiful dark 
eyes confronted him tragically. Her red lips i 
quivered. 

‘‘William!” 

Her agitated voice woke no response in Wil- 
liam. It hardened him. She went toward him 
swiftly, her hands outstretched, but William 
stood cold and inert. 

She felt that she might not touch him. 

Her hands fell back rebuffed. She sobbed out 
frantically. Her wild sobbing filled the rooms. 
Sally Van Besten heard it. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE DAY OF DISILLUSION 

H ush, HusH, Bessie!” William said impera- 
tively. He had turned white. His eyes 
sternly troubled glanced toward the kitchen, then 
back to his visitor. Her arrival could not possibly 
have been more inopportune. In his sense of 
that fact, he was quite unconscious of his own 
austerity of manner. He did not know that the 
chill of his demeanor cut knife-like her quivering 
sensibilities. Yet her agony touched him. 

‘‘Bx^ssie, Bessie! Please don’t feel so badly. 
What is it .? ” 

Only a minute ago he had been as buoyantly 
lighthearted as a boy. His employes, his 
acquaintances of everyday, would hardly have 
recognized serious, austere Mr. Van Besten in 
the young man who laughed and jested as he 
merrily helped Sally to set the lunch table; but 
all at once life grew difficult again. The innocent 
trifling, the frank, unexacting companionship to 
which he had given himself with hearty unana- 
lytic enjoyment, were after all not for him. He 
193 


194 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

himself had placed them beyond reach. A load — 
tons’ weight — fell on his spirit, but he acted alertly. 
A moment long dreaded was at hand. He sum- 
moned his strength to meet it, but with a great 
impatience of the puzzlement of life. “This way. 
Come in here.” He conducted her swiftly into 
the sitting-room and closed the door. 

She struggled to control her sobs. 

“Now, what is it ? ” His voice was stern. The 
weeping woman thought that the sternness was 
for her, but she was mistaken. It was for himself, 
because he felt for her wretchedness and knew 
that he had no power of comfort in him. Her 
frank grief stung him. Never before in all his 
life had William Van Besten known such sickening 
self-despite. He suffered, but he welcomed the 
smart because it seemed in some measure to 
expiate. Grim self-knowledge told him that he 
ought to suffer. 

With a great effort she controlled herself and 
lifted her drenched, quivering face. 

“Oh, William, are you angry because I’ve 
come ? ” she asked piteously. 

William was silent. At that moment he felt 
pretence impossible. 

“Are you ? ” she persisted. 

“No, of course not,” he answered sharply. 
“But I don’t think it was a very wise thing to 
do. Someone may have noticed you. Hasn’t 
there been gossip enough already without inviting 
more } ” 


THE DAY OF DISILLUSION 195 

“Is that all ? What difference does that 
make ? Fve stopped thinking of cheap things 
like that. I don’t care.” 

Her defiance reproached his coward caution. 
They stood mutely questioning each other. In 
her face he read mingled hope and dread, and 
appeal to him to be good to her, to stop making 
her shiver by his impenetrable coldness. William 
was remembering Sally waiting for this mysterious 
interview to end, waiting for the pleasant feasting 
that they had promised themselves, and which 
William knew was hopelessly embittered for 
him now. 

“Well, what is it.?” he repeated. Impatience 
cropped through the dry patience of his tone. 
As he awaited her answer he noted in a dispas- 
sionate way that in spite of tears and dishevel- 
ment she was beautiful. Her dark hair framed 
gxquisitely her delicate face. Her great sorrowful, 
questioning eyes looked at him from under dark 
curling lashes. William perceived her beauty, 
but it no longer had power to stir him. He saw 
her lips quiver, saw her seek restraint, then toss 
it recklessly aside. 

“You ask me that!” There was a long quiver- 
ing pause. Then her voice, low and tremulous, 
“Tve never meant to be exacting, but you haven’t 
been near me for nearly two weeks. Have you 
been out of town .? ” she asked, with sudden change 
of tone, sudden ray of hope. 

“No,” said William. 


196 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON \ 

‘ Every day, every night, I thought you’d surely | 
come. I’ve 'waited and waited until I couldn’t 1 
bear it any longer. That last time you seemed | 
changed. I couldn’t tell what was the matter, , 
but I felt the difference. I was sure there was a . 
difference. Then you stopped coming. No word { 
from you. Nothing. Why, what do you think i 
a woman’s made of? ” Her voice rose in indig- > 
nation. i 

“You’re right. It was not the way to treat j 
you, Bessie. You are right to be angry.” i 

“But I’m not angry, only hurt, William, j 
Hurt.” She stopped abruptly, waiting for a I 
reassurance that did not come. She did not try 
to hide that she longed to forgive, to condone, if 
only he would express some desire to be forgiven. 
But she could make nothing of William’s resolute 
passivity. 

She hurried on with her explanation. “At 
last I thought you must be ill. I went to your 
store and they told me you’d gone home. I 
couldn’t go on like that another day. I had to 
know. So I came on here. William, tell me why 
you’re so — so different ? ” 

But William could find no words. He did not 
know how to tell this throbbing, suffering creature 
the simple truth, which yet it was inevitable that 
she should know. He could not face the yearning 
in her dark eyes. His sternness dropped away 
and his manner grew singularly gentle. But it 
was a gentleness which made him more remote 


THE DAT OF DISILLUSION 197 

to the aching sense of the woman who sought 
him. All the time he was remembering Sally 
waiting and wondering. 

“Sit down, Bessie. Yes, dear, you must,” 
he insisted, with a touch of tenderness to which 
she yielded instantly. As he put her gently into 
an armchair and sat down beside her, her face 
quivered again and tears flooded her eyes. She 
bent toward him. “William, you can’t think 
how lonely and anxious Fve been. It’s been a 
sickening time. I couldn’t understand why you 
stayed away. I’m sure you’re angry, but I don’t 
know what I’ve done.” 

William drew back a little and regarded her 
sombrely. “You have done nothing, nothing at 
all. The fault is all mine, Bessie. I wish to 
God the pain could be all mine too.” He spoke 
fiercely, hating himself for the evil he had wrought. 
A great light had burst from the cloudy heavens 
to reveal the true values of life. It revealed him 
to himself inmeshed in difficulties of his own 
creating. How hard that one could never sin, 
never expiate, alone. Always some other was 
involved. 

She looked at him entreatingly, clinging to the 
arms of her chair as though in spirit she felt herself 
clinging to something else that was, in spite of all 
that she could do, slipping away from her very 
fast. She would not allow herself to accept the 
suggestion of his words, but she looked startled, 
frightened. She forced back her tears and grasped 


iqs an interrupted honeymoon 

composure. Then she looked up at him with a 
wavering, heart-breaking attempt at a smile. 
“I never meant to bore you by crying. I didn’t 
mean to act this way, William. I know you hate 
scenes. You must forgive me. It’s only because 
I was so worried and nervous. We’ll forget all 
about it, shall we, and start fresh ” Her lips 
smiled tremulously, but her eyes were very sad. 

William was heavily silent. 

“William^ you don’t know how you frighten me 
when you act like this. Please don’t be so strange. 
Please be natural.” 

Still he found no reassurance for her. 

‘‘William, have you taken to moralizing at this 
late date What is the use. Don’t let us make 
ourselves unhappy over what can’t be helped. 
William, don’t be good. Let’s try to be happy. 
It harms no one. That’s the best.” She was 
very pretty, very pathetic, her lips inviting, still 
trying to smile. With all the power of her nature 
she was claiming him. He felt her claiming him 
and his own nature repudiating the claim. 

“Bessie, I’ve done very wrong to meddle with 
your life in any way. If I knew how to undo 
what’s been done, I would.” 

“ But why ? ” 

He did not answer. 

“Think how beautiful it’s been,” she reminded. 
“You were so lonely in this dismal old house. 
You told me there wasn’t a soul in the world who 
really cared for you. You tried to hide it, but 


THE DAT OF DISILLUSION 


199 


you really were very sad sometimes, William, 
when you used to come to me to cheer you up. 
And I did cheer you up, didn’t I ? ” 

Her voice wrung his heart. He lifted her hand 
to his lips. There was renunciation in the kiss, 
but she did not know it, and felt a little confused. 

“And I was lonely too, dreadfully lonely after 
my husband died and I came back to Kirton to 
live with mother. Nobody will ever know how 
strange it seemed to find everything going on in 
the same old way when I felt so changed. I 
made up my mind that life was always going to 
be commonplace. All the rose color had faded 
out of mine. I wasn’t very old, but I felt that I’d 
had my portion of good things. But I was resigned. 
I was getting along comfortably enough, even if I 
was lonely. Then you came.” 

William groaned. “I never should have come.” 
“Why not? Because you are married, you 
mean ? I never thought of that after the first, 
and I don’t believe you did. How could that 
really count when you’d never lived together ? 
When she didn’t care for you or you for her ? 
Oh, you were very honorable! You told me 
right away, you know. But that didn’t amount 
to much, telling me, when you went right on and 
made me care for you. I tried not to at first, 
but you did make me care.” t 
“It was very wrong.” 

“No, it wasn’t. I’m glad you came, William, 
but you did change everything. You don’t think 


200 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


I could go back now and be contented as I was 
before ? ’’ She leaned her passionate face toward 
him, but all in vain. 

“William, you don’t really think Fm horrid, 
do you ” 

“I think you all that is sweet and womanly.” 
He spoke with strong feeling. “I don’t deserve 
to have you feel this way.” 

“But I can’t help it,” she said simply. 

“There is a great deal in the world for anyone 
like you. You’re sure to find interests, occupa- 
tions.” His words sounded weak, inadequate, 
cowardly in his own ears. 

“What do you mean .^ ” Her longing dark 
eyes probed for his meaning, yet refused to under- 
stand. William bent over quickly and laid his 
strong hand, his big throbbing palm, over the 
piteous, trembling little hand that clasped the 
chair arm. 

“I would give anything on earth if there was 
anything I could do for you. I can’t bear to feel 
that I cause you pain. Why can’t I bear all the 
pain myself.^ ” 

“What do you mean.? Please don’t talk so 
strangely. Has anything happened .? Are you 
trying to tell me that you don’t care for me any 
longer .? ” 

Her quivering voice filled him with anguish. 
He felt like a ruthless torturer, and all the time 
his heart bled pity for her. Yet, in spite of the 
pity, he felt too the unshakable resolve to have 


THE DAT OF DISILLUSION 


201 


done. For the end had come. The glamour 
had dissolved. This palpitating, suffering 
creature filled him with pity for her and shame for 
himself, but she no longer allured. The how and 
the why of it were beyond William's telling. He 
could not say to her that their relationship had 
never possessed the elements of permanency, 
although he knew that to be true. In seeking 
her he had sought the lesser values, mere sops 
to his loneliness, his dissatisfactions, his desires. 
If he had but had sense to wait for the higher 
values. But he had not, and therefore this aching 
sense of responsibility for the irretrievable pos- 
sessed him. 

Hope seemed to be slowly dying out of her as 
she sat limply leaning back in the cushioned 
chair. She looked drearily bewildered. “Oh, 
you can't have stopped caring like that," she said, 
in a slow wondering way. “Think, think back, 
William. Only such a little while ago. Can you 
forget ^ " Her voice sank to a whisper. Invol- 
untarily she held out an entreating hand. 

William knelt down beside the chair and took 
the hand into a firm clasp. “No, Bessie, what- 
ever comes, be sure I shall never forget. If I 
wish to forget, I won't be able to." 

Bessie was drearily surveying her surroundings. 
“This is the first time I've been in this house since 
I was a little girl and my mother brought me 
when she came to call on your mother. What 
a strange looking room it is. So many things." 


202 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


But William felt no desire to show Bessie his 
collection. 

“William, do you remember that first time we 
met after I came back ? That’s nearly three 
years ago. That time at the door of your store } ” 

Yes, he remembered that pretty vision of bright 
eyes and light laughter. Had he not evoked 
it often to brighten his colorless office before 
finally he sought her. It had come to him many 
and many a time, inviting, beckoning, before he 
had yielded. 

“That was when I first asked you to call, but 
I hardly expected you’d come. I went home and 
told mother that William Van Besten hadn’t 
changed a bit since we went to the high school. 
You were such a quiet, sedate boy, and generally 
you seemed so indifferent to girls. But we girls 
all looked up to you and liked you. And I never 
forgot the time we played those horrible kissing 
games at some children’s patty. You caught me 
and I fought hard to get away. But you were so 
much bigger and stronger than I was, and so 
determined. You rumpled my white dress and 
pulled the bow out of my pink sash and held me 
tight until you’d had your way and kissed me. 
I cried as though my heart was broken when you 
did let go. William, it isn’t going to be like that 
again ” 

All spirit seemed quenched in her as she lay 
huddled in the big chair where he had put her. 
Suddenly she started up and stretched out her 


THE DAT OF DISILLUSION 


203 


hands frantically. “It mustn’t end like this! 
Don’t let it. I won’t be exacting. I will do 
anything you want.” 

But William looked back inflexibly. “Listen, 
Bessie. Don’t you see it doesn’t depend on me 
or on you ? There are forces in the world so 
much bigger than you and me. They clutch us. 
We must yield.” 

She sat up, clasping her hands convulsively. 
“I wouldn’t have believed I could be so abject. 
I’ve always had plenty of pride until now. Do 
you enjoy making me grovel ? ” 

“Bessie! I beg of you! Don’t say such things. 
Don’t think them. Do you think there’s no 
pain in this for me ? ” 

“Well, I don’t understand. What is it, who 
is it that’s changed everything ^ Haven’t I a 
right to know ? Some other woman has come 
between us. I feel it. Hasn’t there ? ” 

“We couldn’t go on. It was all wrong from 
the first. All mistaken.” 

Her lips curved scornfully. “Was it? You 
didn’t always think so, did you ? William, have 
you really gone back to her after the way she 
treated you ? We heard you went to see her. I 
could hardly believe it. I thought you had 
some pride, some self-respect.” She longed to 
sting him into some admission. 

The discussion was taking a turn intolerable 
to William. “Why prolong this?” he said 
hastily. “Bessie, heap all the blame you will 


204 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

upon me. It won’t be more than I deserve.” 

She rose feebly. “How anxious you are to 
get rid of me, aren’t you ? My being here bothers 
you, interrupts. You looked as though you hated 
me when you opened the door.” 

“I did not mean it. You surprised me.” 

“Well, I will go now. Perhaps it was wrong 
to come.” 

She stood wavering, looking at him with final 
appeal, finding it hard to go away. She felt a 
great longing to keep William in her sight although 
his every word and look hurt her, reiterated that 
she had lost him. Hope still insisted that she 
might draw him back. For was she not just the 
same, just as worth caring for as ever ? What, 
then, had snapped the spell 

William opened the sitting-room door. His 
alacrity stung her. “I’ll see you soon,” he said. 
“I have been meaning to come.” 

“ Did you really mean to come ? ” She fixed 
her mournful eyes doubtingly upon him and 
shook her head. “Oh, once or twice, perhaps, 
at long intervals, to ease your conscience! But 
when once you get what you want, and are happy, 
you’ll try to forget all about me. You won’t seek 
a reminder of what you’ll want to forget. But 
you said you wouldn’t ever be able to forget, and 
that’s true. When you’re least expecting it, 
something will make you remember. Then you’ll 
wince because you’ll know that even if everybody 
does look up to you and if you have everything in 


THE DAT OF DISILLUSION 205 

the world you want, you once acted basely. You 
can’t get away from that knowledge. For it is 
base to desert a woman after you’ve made her 
depend on you and care for you. I hope you will 
suffer. I want you to suffer.” 

William stood squarely to the attack. He 
welcomed her wrath. 

The dining-room door stood open. The autumn 
sunshine fell across the pretty table set for two. 
The golden-brown popovers were getting dry and 
cold. Bessie stopped short on the threshold 
and looked at the table. Her face grew rigid. 
A flame of jealousy blazed in her heart. She 
turned upon him. “What does this mean?” she 
asked, pointing to the table. “I knew there was 
some reason why you hated so to have me come. 
What did I interrupt ? ” She looked around in 
search of another presence. “Who are you 
expecting ? ” 

“I am expecting no one,” William answered 
stonily. 

She turned blindly toward the door. He 
opened it. As she was passing swiftly out, he laid 
his hand upon her arm. “Bessie, forgive me. It 
hurts me, too.” 

“Don’t touch me!” she flung back at him pas- 
sionately, but through her quivering pride he 
read her longing to yield to the touch, to yield to 
his compulsion. He released her and watched her 
go down the path. She went swiftly, never once 
looking back, but he saw her stumble as she went. 


CHAPTER XV 


HOUR OF RECKONING 

W ILLIAM closed the door. He stood for an 
instant in the hall. Immediate resolution 
came to him. Grimly he squared his shoulders 
to meet the ordeal. Uneasy self-despite, a sensa- 
tion new to him, impelled him to abase himself 
before the one whose good opinion he most 
valued. The many promptings which had guided 
him along a self-indulgent course looked puerile 
enough now before the havoc his self-indulgence 
had wrought. Well, Sally should judge him. 
He longed to have her. He meant to extenuate 
nothing of his folly and weakness and wrong- 
doing. The worst that there was to know about 
himself she should know. The resolution was 
based on something finer than his temperamental 
self-will. It held its own bitterness, a bitter 
self-knowledge that altered William’s aspect. Not 
a trace of his old priggishness hung about this 
pale, determined-looking young man. 

What had become of Sally ? The house seemed 
appallingly quiet. Somehow he knew that she 
206 


HOUR OF RECKONING 


207 


was no longer in it. He felt so utterly alone. He 
strode through the dining-room to the kitchen. 
The serene yellow cats had it all to themselves. 
The luncheon dishes carefully covered were 
waiting on the hearth. In spite of his unhappy 
mood, William smiled involuntarily at sight of 
them. It was so exactly like Sally to cover the 
dishes in that provident fashion, even in the face 
of tragedy. Ah, Sally, Sally! He longed to put 
his arms around her and lean his abased man’s 
head against her breast and feel her tender woman’s 
arms around him, and find love and pardon and 
comfort. He felt a great need of her. The 
reminders of their gay hours together were unen- 
durable. He left the kitchen hastily. 

“Sally, Sally, where are you?” He called in 
a lifeless way that expected no answer. His 
glance into the parlor was a mere form. Then he 
remembered that she had laid her jacket on a 
chair in the hall and he returned there hastily to look 
for it. It was gone. William stood irresolute 
where to seek her next. He must find her. How 
much had she overheard ? What was she fancying 
concerning him ? He glanced at the clock. Prob- 
ably at this moment she was in Perry Herter’s 
mail wagon well started on her way to Manorton. 
She need not think that she was going to escape 
him that way. He would follow at once and have 
it out with her. He caught up his hat and coat 
and hurried out to catch the next trolley into 
Kirton to the stables where he kept his horse. 


2o8 an interrupted HONEYMOON 


An acquaintance stopped him on the street. 
“Wait a minute, Van Besten. May I have a 
word with you ? ’’ i 

“Well, Pm in a great hurry, to tell the truth,’’ | 
William answered constrainedly. “Won’t it keep | 
till to-morrow ? I’m trying to get away for a few ! 
hours. But any time to-morrow.” 

“Oh, all right then. I’ll wait,” the other ] 
answered cheerfully. 

William had an ironical perception that he was 
acting as though compelled to catch a certain train. 
What difference could five minutes, ten minutes, 
make in the situation .? Yet he knew that he was 
unwilling to sacrifice even that amount of time 
to anyone. As soon as his horse could be har- 
nessed he set forth for Manorton. i 

For the first time since its erection, he drove 
past the Civic Building without seeing it. From 
the time it had first been planned, it had loomed 
before his imagination as a stately embodiment 
of all the vaguely realized, yet potent values of 
the Kirton life. Usually the harmony and beauty 
of its outward aspect calmed his chafed spirit, was a 
secret solace. William Van Besten loved his little 
native city with a silent loyalty that made it the 
one chosen spot on earth to him. He never could 
compare it to any other place except to the latter’s 
disadvantage. He never returned to it after an 
absence without quiet jubilation that his lot had 
been cast here. Guiding his capable conduct of 
his own affairs, was a strong desire to leave 


HOUR OF RECKONING 


209 


notning undone of his obligations as a citizen of 
Kirton. For the good of Kirton as much as for 
his personal benefit, it had always gratified him 
that Van Besten’s should be one of the chief 
ornaments of its business street. He sought to 
maintain the air of well-kept opulence about his 
home that it too might reflect credit upon the 
Kirton fashion of life. But to-day none of these 
considerations were present with him as he 
touched his horse with the whip and urged him 
on to Manorton. This time he never noticed the 
hoary chestnut trees shedding their glossy harvest. 
He was wondering how Sally would look, what 
she would say. 

A most unpleasant sense of shamefacedness 
seized him as he walked up the Haselton path. 
Its outward manifestation was a resolute squaring 
of the shoulders, a closer compression of the 
lips. It occurred to him as quite possible that 
Joe’s and Annie’s friendly attitude toward him 
might have been altered by Sally’s report of her 
visit. But that after all was of little consequence, 
he told himself. It was Sally’s own attitude he 
longed to know. He listened eagerly, then disap- 
pointedly, to the steps coming toward the door. 

When Mrs. Haselton opened the door, he saw 
only surprise and friendly concern in her counte- 
nance. ‘‘Why, William, is that you.? Why, 
Sally went up to Kirton to-day. Didn’t you see 
anything of her .? ” 

“Isn’t she home yet.?” he asked. 


210 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


“No, she isn’t. I think she must have decided 
to spend the night with some of her friends up 
there. Sometimes she does, you know. Won’t 
you come in ? ” 

“Where do you think she’d be most likely to 
stay .? ” 

“I can’t tell you that. Perhaps she’s gone to 
the McKinstry’s, or to the Arnold’s. She’s 
very fond of them. Or she may have gone to 
Addie Armstrong’s. There are half a dozen 
places where she may be.” 

Annie Haselton felt vaguely that there was 
stronger emotion than casual disappointment in 
William’s troubled expression. He looked strange- 
ly disconcerted as he stood silent in the doorway. 

“Don’t stand there, William. Come into the 
house. Joe’ll soon be back from the mill. Stay 
and have supper widi us.” 

William roused himself. “Not to-night, thank 
you, Annie.” But he lingered on the threshold. 

Annie laughed out cheerfully. “Wait just a 
minute then till I stir my cornstarch. I’m afraid 
it will boil over if I leave it any longer. I wish 
you’d come in, William. Why should you stand 
there ? ” 

But she found him still at the door when she 
returned from her swift mission to the kitchen. 
“When do you think she’s likely to get home ? ” 

“ Oh, I guess she’ll come along down with Perry 
Herter to-morrow. She can’t stay away very long 
for she has such lots of work waiting for her.” 


HOUR OF RECKONING 


2II 


“I must be going back/’ William said heavily. 
“Good-night, Annie,” 

With an impulse of sympathy for this obvious 
masculine dejection, Annie held out her hand. 
“See here, William,” she smiled in arch apology 
for questioning, “you and Sally haven’t gone and 
quarreled, have you ? ” 

“No,” said William hastily. The question 
seemed to act as an impetus. 

Annie Haselton looked after him with a sense of 
mystification. “I’m sure something’s wrong,” 
she said to herself. 

William drove slowly back to Kirton. Should 
he continue the quest .? He deliberated. No. 
Better wait now until she was home. To persist 
in seeing her now might seem abject on his part. 
Nor did it seem advisable to beat up the houses 
of all the friends with whom she might be staying. 
Obviously, she intended to avoid him. 

He went back to his store and tried for a time 
to give his thoughts to business. But whispering 
spirits of unrest called his attention. William 
sat back in his chair and looked with frowning 
concentration upon something remote from Main 
Street, Kirton. His clerks avoided interrupting 
him that afternoon. 

He locked his desk and walked slowly back to 
his house. The chill of desolation enveloped him 
as he entered it. Now that he could do nothing 
for the moment, he found that the experiences of 
the afternoon had left him exhausted as by some 


212 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


great physical strain. He could not endure the 
reminders of the dining-room, of the sitting-room. 
He turned into his long silent parlor, walking up 
and down between the ranks of ghostly furniture, 
throwing himself at full length on the slippery 
haircloth sofa. So many hours to be worn away 
before to-morrow. To-morrow Sally should evade 
him no longer. She must listen to his story. He 
longed fiercely for her to know all the good and 
the bad in him. She should understand the real 
William, have no longer any excuse for taking 
for granted some praiseworthy, fictitious character, 
the highly respected young business man. 

After awhile, in sheer weariness of spirit, 
seeking employment, he went out to the dining- 
room and cleared away. He could not touch the 
interrupted feast. The yellow cats profited by 
Sally’s cooking. William returned to the parlor 
and dropped into a chair and tried to review the 
situation. The vision of Bessie haunted him, — 
pitiful suffering Bessie, — all her lingering girlish- 
ness shrivelled because of him. It humiliated him 
to feel as though he had turned her defenceless 
from his door. Once he started to go to her. But 
why, since he had no comfort for her .? Far better 
for her, then, that he should keep away. From the 
wreck of a relationship which never ought to have 
been, would it ever be possible to build a fine 
human friendliness ? Fervently, humbly, he 
wished that it might be so. Wished that Bessie 
might come to know that all a man friend could 


HOUR OF RECKONING 


213 


do for a woman, she might count upon from him. 
Until she could feel that he could never see her 
or think of her without sting of remorse. 

Again he paced up and down. There was a 
singular expectancy upon him as though some- 
thing might happen. It held him from bed. He 
could not bear the thought of his great four poster. 
He had spent so many gray dawn hours of late, 
looking up at its brocaded tester and planning, 
wishing, hoping, wondering how his future was 
to shape itself. Not long since he had believed 
that he had the problem of life solved as far as 
might be. Life was at best a makeshift business. 
A wise man wrung from it what peace, comfort, 
and content he might, knowing very well that he 
was not destined to be ever satisfied. So William 
had tried to keep his spirit unruffled, to take what 
cheer offered, to improve his collection. His 
collection! How suddenly that had grown inad- 
equate. He no longer felt the slightest interest 
in the joys and woes of the shadowy company 
with which he had once been able fancifully to 
beguile his solitude. He craved the live, throb- 
bing, human companionship which instinct told 
him a man should have. 

Bessie had said that she could never go back 
to what she had been before. Of course she 
could not. Nor could he ever again satisfy his 
spirit with inanimate things. Never in all his 
somewhat unemotional life had he known con- 
suming desire until now. He knew what was 


2H INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


the only thing that would satisfy, but he did not 
know whether he could attain it. The long night 
wore through. He dozed uneasily and woke to 
find himself sliding from the slippery haircloth 
of the long sofa. He had omitted his usual 
careful round of locking up, of making sure that 
the shutters were secure. The parlor shutters 
he had thrown open to make the room cheerful 
for Sally. The many windows of the ancient 
double room became long rectangles of pale 
luminosity. Gradually from the formless dark- 
ness shapes began to emerge, to grow clearer. 
Another day had come at last. Thank God. 
that night’s over! 


CHAPTER XVI 

A BELATED CONFESSION 

J UDGE BURRALL, almost oppressively com- 
fortable in his quiet room, sat pondering over 
the affairs of William and Sally Van Besten. It 
W3.S extraordinary how much of his time and 
attention the lonely old man bestowed upon that 
erratic young couple. Their live love story drew 
his kindly and observant interest so much more 
piquantly than the formal presentation of any 
printed page. Moreover, he loved to think that 
although neither of them knew it, he had himself 
contributed potently to bring about the happy 
issue that he thought he saw approaching. 

“Now, if Fd encouraged that girl to rush to 
law as she was set upon doing, then the fat would 
have been in the fire. The great thing in adjusting - 
difficulties is to persuade people to temporize.’^ 
The Judge recalled the excited, tragic-eyed young 
woman who had invaded his sluggish peace a few 
months earlier, and rubbed his hands together 
complacently. 

At times in his care-free retirement he felt very 
215 


2i6 an interrupted HONEYMOON 


lonely. To puzzle over what had caused the 
trouble, to dream of the two as inmeshed in 
happy romance, treading the illumined highway 
to the old, usual joys and tribulations, each with 
their own high values, had often assuaged the 
Judge’s loneliness. But sometimes he found 
himself envious, not poignantly, but with an 
aching realization that after all he had missed 
some of the great and beautiful realities. The 
Judge sighed, and glanced about the quiet room 
uneasily in quest of something to dispel a sudden, 
disheartening sense of solitary age. With a sigh 
of relief he caught up his pipe and set about filling 
it. Thank God, a man had always his pipe, his 
soothing, unexacting pipe! 

Before he could light his pipe he heard a quick 
step on the walk, on the porch, a quick pull at 
the bell. The Judge reconnoitered through the 
screen of lace curtain. “Bless me, there she is!” 
He hurried to the door, delightedly sure that as 
she had once sought him in her difficulties, she 
had now come to tell him that those difficulties 
were over. But the smile that Mrs. Van Besten 
forced in response to his welcoming was a woe- 
stricken smile. Unhappy perplexity looked out 
of her hazel eyes. 

The shrewd eyes under Judge Burrall’s thickets 
of grizzled eyebrows perceived her disquiet, her 
flutter of manner. “Glad to see you, Mrs. Van 
Besten. How are you to-day ? ” 

Sally felt a quiet, kind sympathy in his manner. 


A BELATED CONFESSION 


217 


He saw her lips quiver as she accepted the chair 
he drew forward. “Judge Burrall, Fve come to 
you because I haven’t anyone else to go to. I 
can’t go on living this way. It’s too intolerable. 
I want you to tell me what to do — how to set 
Mr. Van Besten free as soon as possible; how 
to be free myself.” 

The Judge looked very sober. “What has 
happened ? ” 

“Oh, nothing. That is ” Her color 

flamed up. “I simply cannot bear to be in such 
an anomalous position any longer. It’s too 
humiliating! To feel yourself a clog on a man. 
Neither more nor less!” Her voice shook. She 
stopped abruptly. 

“I declare, Tm sorry to hear this. Extremely 
sorry. I had an idea diat the diflFerences between 
you and your husband were in the way of being 
adjusted.” Genuine regret warmed the Judge’s 
voice. He forgot to be urbane and frowned upon 
her. It was disconcerting to find his pleasant 
imaginings all in vain. “I suppose you and he 
have been tormenting each other after the usual 
fashion. You’ve quarreled.” 

“Oh, no.” 

“Then what is wrong ? ” 

Sally was silent. So was the Judge for some 
minutes. Then he leaned forward. “My dear 
young lady, why won’t you make a clean breast of 
it ^ It’s the only way. How can you expect me 
to advise you, to help you without any real under- 


2i8 an interrupted HONEYMOON 


standing of the situation ? Come, be reasonable, 
rd be glad to help you if it’s possible. Now 
don’t shilly-shally any longer, I beg of you. 
What was all this incomprehensible coil about 
in the first place ? Tell me that.” 

Sally’s color wavered. She started to speak, then 
caught her breath and deliberated. Her excited 
eyes seemed to be surveying the past. With a 
nervous start, she finally seized upon resolution. 
She threw back her shoulders. “Well, I will.” 

“Good.” 

“Oh, but it’s so idiotic! I don’t believe I can.” 

“Of course it is. Proceed, madam.” 

Sally laughed nervously. “People have always 
thought sure that it must have been something 
perfectly dreadful, but it wasn’t. It really wasn’t 
any one thing in particular, you see. It was the 
combination. At the time I really thought I was 
partly right, but afterwards I thought I’d been 
an awful fool.” 

The Judge nodded assent. 

Sally deliberated and then embarked hesi- 
tatingly upon her story. “William hated the 
wedding fuss, the joking, and all that. He hated 
the rice throwing and the foolish white streamers 
and the old slippers. All those things made him 
feel ridiculous and he detested that. He tried to 
take everything in good part, but I saw how 
thoroughly he disliked it. Of course, those 
things are foolish, but then I thought he was 
foolish to take them so seriously.” 


A BELATED CONFESSION 


219 


“You thought that he ought to be too happy 
to mind.” The Judge smiled. “And so he 
should have been.” 

“He wasn’t. He said he failed to see how 
people could take pleasure in such idiocy. And 
I said: ‘Oh, come William, don’t be so severe. 
It may be silly but it’s harmless. After all it 
means good-will.’ But he wasn’t a bit pleasant 
about it. He pulled out his knife and slashed 
away at those white streamers as though he’d 
have enjoyed slashing the people who had tied 
them on. It made me feel a little sober to have 
him like that.” 

“After awhile he pulled out a cigar and asked 
if I minded if he smoked.” Sally’s ancient 
indignation blazed up in her eyes as she looked 
at the Judge. “Think of it On our wed- 

ding journey! I said I did mind. I said I’d 
never thought it looked well for a man to smoke 
when he was out with a lady anyway.” Her 
indignation strengthened. “Think of his wanting 
to smoke — then!” 

The Judge shook his head gravely. “Very 
reprehensible certainly. Perhaps, too, you thought 
you ought to begin as you meant to keep on. To 
be sure, there’s nothing like training a husband 
properly from the start.” 

The Judge’s light irony was not ungenial. The 
deprecating curves of Sally’s lips made admission. 

“So you wouldn’t let him smoke. How did he 
take that ? ” 


220 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


“He said, ‘Oh, very well, if I objected ' 

and he put the cigar back in his pocket. But he 
didn’t like it. I said I thought it was a great pity 
that tobacco had ever been discovered. It was 
a horrid, self-indulgent, bad-smelling habit. Wil- 
liam said very drily that I quite shared his father’s 
views. He’d never been able to smoke except 
a few times on the sly until he went to college. 
If his father had caught him at it, he’d have 
thrashed him. And then I said that if thrashing 
would have cured him, it was a great pity his 
father hadn’t caught him. I said I knew he 
smoked altogether too much. It was very bad 
for his health. William said he didn’t agree with 
me at all. There were plenty of doctors who 
recommended their patients to smoke. Personally 
he thought that smoking had been beneficial to 
him. I said it was a very extravagant habit. 
William said he was sorry I felt that way, but he 
could afford to smoke. Oh, I never would have 
been so horrid if he’d laughed or something, 
been different, instead of sitting up there so tall 
and grim, and sort of sarcastic. Oh, I was 
horrid!” she cried out with emphatic conviction. 
“I didn’t really care a bit whether he smoked or 
not.” 

“I see. Your prohibition was merely a means 
of discipline.” 

“Finally William said that with all reasonable 
deference to my wishes, he didn’t propose to give 
up smoking. He whipped up the horse. 


A BELATED CONFESSION 


221 


“Well, Judge Burrall, you see we weren’t very 
romantic.” Pain underlay her effort at lightness 
of manner. 

“What happened next ” 

“After awhile a big black and white cat ran 
across the road with a soft, little bird in its mouth. 
I exclaimed at the horrid, cruel beast. I said 
rd always hated cats. They were cold-blooded, 
treacherous things. William said that he liked 
them. I said I never wanted any cats in my 
house. William said that he was sorry to hear 
me say that, for there were two cats diere now 
that he was very fond of. They had been his 
companions in solitude for a long time. He said 
rather disagreeably that he hoped I wasn’t going 
to be unkind to them. You see, that’s the way 
we kept on aggravating each other. I’m sure I 
don’t know why we did it.” 

She paused and averted her gaze and looked 
back mournfully over the dead years. 

The Judge absent-mindedly fingered his pipe. 
Sally laughed. “Oh, you may smoke if you 
like. Judge Burrall. I don’t really mind, you 
know. In fact, I rather like a man to smoke,” 
she confessed. 

“Thank you, my dear, but I don’t believe I care 
to smoke at present. So you were a bit cantank-^ 
erous about the cats. What happened next ? ” 

“We drove on and on and we were so uncom- 
fortable. That is, I was, and I guess William 
was, too. I couldn’t help wondering if ever a girl 


222 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


since the beginning of time had had such an 
uncomfortable, cheerless kind of wedding journey. 
I never thought William was very romantic, you 
know, and I wasn’t either, but still 

“I see. I understand your feelings perfectly. 
Naturally a little display of sentiment would have 
been appropriate to the occasion. But you 
mustn’t forget that quite possibly your own 
attitude had been a little chilling, eh ? ” 

“I know I was very disagreeable,” she admit- 
ted, mournfully. 

“Just so, my dear, and I expect you failed to 
realize that your husband had his points of sensi- 
tiveness as well as yourself. Perhaps he’d been 
expecting more of joy on that wedding drive as 
well as you. I really think you were a little hard 
on him, you know.” 

“At any rate it was dreadfully uncomfortable, 
and there didn’t seem to be anything pleasant to 
say. Although William was right there beside 
me, he might just as well have been miles away. 
Do you know — I don’t know how to explain — 
but it was sort of frightening. I felt as though I 
must just prod him to find out if he was there. I 
don’t know what possessed me that day anyway!” 
She sighed. “I asked him if he cared a great 
deal about going to the Dutch Reformed Church. 
He said that he supposed I preferred the Presby- 
terian Church and he’d be glad to take a pew there 
for me if I would like it. He always had kept 
his father’s old pew in the Dutch Church, but 


A BELATED CONFESSION 


223 


that needn’t make any difference. I told him he 
ought not to be indifferent about anything so 
important as our church home. I’d gone to the 
Presbyterian Church all my life, and of course I 
liked it better, but I was perfectly willing to go 
with him every other Sunday if he’d come with me 
every other Sunday. That would be fair to both 
of us.” 

“Didn’t Van Besten think so.?” 

“He said I’d better go wherever I wanted to 
go and not count upon him. He’d fallen out of 
the church-going habit since he went as a youth 
under the compulsion of his elders. You don’t 
know how irritating it was to have him sit up there 
as though he felt superior to going to church. 
As though church was just good for women.” 
Again Sally’s old indignation revived. 

“Very irritating certainly.” 

“Of course I was foolish to make it an issue 
between us. Especially just then. Only — he was 
so aggravating. I wanted him to promise to 
come to church with me, but he wouldn’t. You 
know it really did seem right to insist upon your 
husband’s going to church. And I thought it 
would look so queer for me to be going without 
him.” Sally spoke in self-justification, but her 
eyes suddenly swam in tears. Her throat grew 
convulsed. She covered her face with both hands. 

The Judge waited patiently, watching her from 
under those shaggy eyebrows of his with a kindly 
and sympathetic comprehension. 


224 INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Presently Sally sat up with sprightly determi- 
nation. She shook out her damp little hand- 
kerchief and steadied her voice. “I said that if 
he didn’t care enough for me to sacrifice himself 
to the extent of going to church with me like 
respectable people, then our getting married had 
been an awful mistake. Oh, I ought never to 
have said that! But what if I was unreasonable .? 
Wasn’t he unreasonable. I’d like to know, sitting 
there like an icicle, getting chillier and chillier ^ 
Any girl expects something different on her wed- 
ding day.” 

Sally paused long enough to fold her hand- 
kerchief into a tiny square with elaborate care. 
The Judge refrained from hurrying her in any 
way. He perceived how hard she was trying to 
control the trembling of her lips. She glanced 
at him again and hurried on. “He muttered that 
perhaps it had been a mistake, but we’d have to 
make the best of it now. He was dreadfully 
angry in that horrid still way of his, or he never 
would have said it. But it hurt me. It cut me 
like a knife to have him take me up like that. I 
know I’m quick-tempered. I behaved childishly, 
but I never stopped to think. I said, no, it wasn’t 
too late, either, if that was the way he felt. I 
told him to let me out, and I would go back home. 
He needn’t think he had to live with me.” 

The Judge watched curiously her fresh color 
ebb away with intensity of feeling. 

“That did wake him up. He was shocked. 


A BELATED CONFESSION 


225 


He did try to be nice then. He said he never 
meant it. He said: ‘What in the world has 
come over us both. We’ve never acted like 

this before ^ ’ He did try to — to — be nice ” 

faltered Sally. “ But I pulled away from 
him. I told him I didn’t want him to touch 
me. He even said he’d go to church with me if 
that would make me any happier. He begged me 
to be reasonable, and I said I was reasonable. 
But I wasn’t. If he hadn’t been so awfully 
reasonable,” Sally appealed to the Judge, “I’m 
sure I never would have acted so. But I burst 
out crying and that made me horribly ashamed, 
and I really was just about tired out, you know. 
Everything seemed so horrid — ^so disappointing! 
I just refused to listen to anything he said. I told 
him I knew he was sorry he’d married me and I 
wanted to go home. I told him he’d got to let 
me out or I’d jump out. I was going straight 
home. But I never thought he’d let me do it.” 

“That’s where he made his mistake.” The 
Judge nodded conviction. “He ought to have 
held on to you with one hand if necessary, while 
he drove with the other. That’s what he should 
have done.” 

“He didn’t. He just argued and argued, but 
I wouldn’t listen. I was beside myself. I just 
wanted to scream, and I felt as though I must 
do something. At last he stopped the horse. He 
turned quite white. He said very sternly: ‘Very 
well. Have your own way if you must. I don’t 


226 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


pretend to understand why you do this. If you 
really want to go home, ! suppose you must do 
so. But if you persist in outraging me in this 
way, don’t expect me to come suing later on. I 
stand ready to fulfill my part of the contract 
whenever you say so, but you’ll have to let me 
know when you’re ready to fulfill your part.’ 

‘‘You see, he’d stopped the horse. I don’t 
know what possessed me, unless it was sheer 
obstinacy, but I climbed out of the buggy without 
answering him and walked off without once look- 
ing back. Even then I didn’t think he’d really 
let me do it. Once I thought he was coming 
after me, but it was somebody else. Every step 
I took I felt more terrified to realize what I’d done. 
I thought that William would surely come or write 
or give me some kind of a chance, make it a little 
easy for me, but he never did. William is the 
stubbornest man. That’s his Dutch ancestry, I 
suppose. And every single day made it more 
impossible for me to do anything. I really 
couldn’t, you know.” Sally stopped with a long 
breath. 

“And that’s all.?” 

“That’s all.” Sally gave another sigh of relief 
at having finished her confession. “That’s just 
exactly what happened, and you are the only 
person in the world I’ve ever breathed it to.” 

It lightened Sally’s tragic mood to feel the 
Judge’s regard rest on her as kindly as ever. 
He did not look as though he thought her a 


A BELATED CONFESSION 227 

hopeless virago, as she had half anticipated. 

“ But what I want to know now is, what new 
complication has arisen ? You and your husband 
were thrown together again by a fortunate chance, 
you did succeed in getting on friendly terms 
once more, everything looked toward an ultimate 
happy outcome such as all your friends must 
desire for you both. Then all of a sudden, here 
you are again, as unhappy as ever, demanding 
separation. Now what’s the reason of this .? ” 

Again she seemed to hear that sobbing voice 
in William’s hall. Mentally, she saw again the 
gay and charming face which she had once 
watched enviously while William looked into it 
with fascinated absorption. “I think perhaps 
Mr. Van Besten has become interested in someone 
else.” She spoke hesitatingly. Then, ‘‘Oh, I 
don’t blame him at all. It’s perfectly natural.” 

“And in wrath, just because you really do care 
for him — ^yes, you do — ^you would hasten to immo- 
late yourself. Now, my dear girl, will you listen to 
reason ? Don’t you see that you’ve come to the 
place in your life where you can’t afford to rush 
off into temper or heroics ? You can’t afford to 
do it, you know.” The big masculine voice 
dominated her effort to interrupt. She listened 
docilely. “As you say, it’s natural that your 
husband should be attracted by some other 
woman. The thing was bound to happen sooner 
or later. He is a man, you know. Not a wooden 
effigy, though he’s stiff enough sometimes, that 


228 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


young man, God knows! But you women are 
so exacting, the best of you. You demand the 
impossible. I don’t know what diversions this 
husband of yours may have sought in his loneli- 
ness. I know this: He’s been falling in love 
with you all over again this long time. Bless me, 
do you think I’ve no eyes in my old head ” 

Sally listened intently. Her drooping visage 
brightened. 

“Don’t wade off into a slough of impossible 
sentiment.” In his earnestness, the Judge forgot 
his habitual gallantry. “This man is your hus- 
band by the law of the land. He’ll care for you 
if you’ll let him. Don’t ride off on any more 
tangents. You think he cares for some other 
woman, do you Well, who is it What makes 
you think so ? ” 

Sally reminded him of the current rumors. 
She informed him sketchily that she had seen 
Mr. Van Besten with a lady. She could not 
bring herself to recount the arrival of William’s 
unhappy visitor, the accusing wail that still rang 
in her ears. It felt disloyal both to William and 
to his unhappy friend to tell. Proudly she said 
that she had no accusations to bring — only — A 
sudden haughtiness stiffened her figure. Again 
reserve enveloped her. 

“A divorce is not to be obtained merely for the 
asking,” the Judge reminded. “You will have 
to show cause why your marriage should be 
annulled.” 


A BELATED CONFESSION 


Sally clutched the arms of her chair defiantly. 
**The law hasn’t any right to hold people together 
under such circumstances. It’s preposterous. 
Judge Burrall, you must find some way of setting 
us free.” 

“Well, we’ll see. We’ll see.” 

“Oh, someone’s coming!” She started up in 
alarm. “I must go. I’ll come again.” 

“He can wait in the other room,” the Judge 
said soothingly. 

She lingered. “I’m glad I told you anyway. 
I’m glad you know all about it. It’s a relief to 
have told at last.” 

The Judge took her hand very kindly and patted 
her on the shoulder. “You must have patience 
a little longer. Will you promise to be guided 
by me ^ ” 

“But it’s been so long already.” Her voice 
shook. A flood of emotion swept over her. Her 
lips quivered piteously. Her eyes filled. She 
turned blindly toward the door, seeking escape 
from self-betrayal. Judge Burrall laid his arm 
around her and drew her head gently to his broad 
shoulder. “There, there,” he whispered sooth- 
ingly. “You’re young. You’ve no reason to 
despair. Your affairs are all going to come 
right. I’m sure of it.” His big voice throbbed 
with kindliness. 

“But it’s been so long,” sobbed Sally. “I 
never meant it. I’ve been so lonely all this time! 
Nobody knows. I’ve been so lonely!” 


230 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

The Judge felt more than half inclined to kiss 
the flushed, pathetic young woman resting so 
trustfully against his broad breast. He refrained 
and contented himself with another fatherly pat. 
“There, there, my dear girl. Cheer up. It's 
going to be all right, I tell you." 

Sally looked up into his concerned face. “I 
oughtn't to keep you from that man any longer." 
Her eyes, still suffused, softened gratefully. “Any- 
way, I'm glad you know the worst about me. You 
don't utterly despise me, do you " 

The Judge's short laugh was very reassuring. 

Sallie hurried away. 


CHAPTER XVII 

THE DEEP HOLE 

I T was the next morning. 

“Sally, William’s here,” called Annie from 
the foot of the stairs. Sally’s heart jumped as 
she rose at the summons. “He is anxious. He 
does care, to come again so soon!” 

“Very well, Annie. I’ll be down in a few 
moments,” she called back in a studiedly com- 
posed voice. 

William came forward eagerly, his face intent 
and questioning. She gave him sober greeting 
and drew her hand quietly away from his. It 
was a singularly unresponsive little hand that 
morning. “Won’t you sit down .f* ” Her unim- 
peachable courtesy served as a means of with- 
drawal from the familiarity that had been so 
pleasantly strengthening between them. It seemed 
to him that she had placed herself alertly on the 
defensive against his nearer approach. William 
set his lips in resolution to demolish those defences 
presently. 

“Why did you run away from me yesterday ? ” 
231 


232 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

She would not look at him. He saw her color 
flame up. “You seemed to be engaged. You 
had rather a dull day for your drive.’’ Her very 
tone had changed, was formal. 

Of late, whenever they had been together, 
heart cheer had bubbled from their lips in light 
mockery, light laughter. The veriest trivialities 
of the moment had gained significance. There 
had been endless things to say. Each had felt 
like a fascinated explorer of the other’s territory, 
a more and more bold explorer, yet cautious 
to inflict no harm, bruise no sensibilities as he, 
as she, reconnoitered. Their intercourse had 
become easy and natural, and they had sought it 
with the zest they might have brought to a delight- 
ful game. But now, although she had offered 
him her hand and was trying to appear the same, 
he felt instantly the change that had come over 
her. The constraint on her brow, the forced 
smile on her lips, seemed to be holding judgment 
in abeyance. Her eyes refused to meet frankly 
his questioning gaze. 

He felt a subtle, silent challenge. He crossed 
the room to her. “Tell me, Sally, why did you 
go off in that sudden way ? ” His earnest tone 
forced a way through the pretence of ease. It 
was pleading, passionate. 

Sally did not answer. She uneasily evaded 
his look. 

The four walls of the orderly parlor oppressed 
William like prison walls. Everything surrounding 


THE DEEP HOLE 


233 


him seemed in its trim home aspect to be out of 
sympathy with all that he felt to be stirring within 
him, all that he had come to say. At any moment 
little Joe, happily confident that he could never 
be unwelcome, might push open the door. Annie 
Haselton, kind and considerate, would keep 
away. Yet all the time they would know that 
she too was near, just across the hall in the sitting- 
ivjom. William felt a great desire to get Sally 
;iway from her habitual setting, out somewhere 
where he could have her all to himself, in the 
open. He felt that what he had come to say 
could be easier said under the sober autumnal 
sky across which gray clouds scurried continually 
before conflicting winds. The serenity of the 
home-like room was oppressive to him. He stood 
looking down upon her with great seriousness. 
“Sally, there’s something I want to say to you. 
Will you come out with me ? Some quiet spot 
out of doors ? Anywhere but in the house.” He 
saw her waver. Denial seemed hovering on her 
lips. “Please do. It’s important. Don’t refuse 
this little favor.” His voice vibrated insistently. 

Sally rose. “I must get my jacket then.” 

Little Joe saw them starting, and precipitated 
himself after them. “Let me go too! Wait, 
Aunt Sally, I want to go too.” His mother 
hastily closed the door upon his outcry. He 
struggled in vain in her restraining clutch. “Keep 
still, Joe. You can’t go. No, you can’t. If 


234 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

with mother presently.’’ From the window Mrs. 
Haselton regarded the two tall figures going 
soberly side by side along the lane that led up 
toward the woods. She nodded satisfaction to 
herself. ‘‘I guess they’ve made it up, whatever 
it was. Foolish things!” 

In other years William and Sally had taken 
country walks together, but neither remembered 
those now. Sally took the lead and he followed, 
careless whither she conducted. William made 
no eflPort at conversation as they went along. 
Once Sally called his attention to a plump gray 
squirrel holding a green wild grape between his 
sharp front teeth. The squirrel sat on its haunches 
and watched them with bright little eyes, alert 
to fly if they showed signs of malice. As they did 
not, he went about his harvesting before they 
were fairly past. Sally abandoned her effort at 
indifferent chat before her companion’s steady 
lack of response. The matter between them 
hung in suspense as they went silently. 

The lane grew grassier. On either side was a tall 
fringe of goldenrod and asters, the glory of their 
gold and purple faded, in sober russet now, their 
tiny seeds ripe to sail off on downy pinions. The 
lane was a wood road now, leading across the 
little farms that lie around Manorton. The 
brook followed and left and came back to it again 
and again. Through the flat meadows the brook 
was silent, but in other places they heard its 
cheerful croon as it splashed over a stony bed. 


THE DEEP HOLE 


235 


Presently they entered a little glen and here the 
brook broadened into a dark, quiet pool. Its 
banks were steep. Great willows shaded it. 
One willow, torn up by the roots in some fierce 
storm, lay on the ground. Gleams of pale gold 
came from the willow stems. The flat stones 
lying about were tapestried with silver lichens. 
A more sequestered spot could scarcely be found, 
out of sight, out of hearing of any but the little, 
uninterfering wild folks of the fields. Once 
before they had been here together, but that 
fact was far from their consciousness. The 
quivering pain in their hearts to-day drove remem- 
brance away. They had never felt anything like 
it in those other days, when they had been so 
carelessly at ease, so carelessly sure that they 
understood life and understood each other. 

Sally stopped uncertainly and glanced toward 
William almost timidly. William stopped. “Yes, 
this will do.’’ He looked down into the murky 
pool. Sally waited. There was a long silence. 
They were so quiet that a fat green bullfrog 
hopped almost at their feet without discovering 
them, then, as William moved, splashed into the 
pool with a protesting croak. An inquisitive 
catbird came to investigate them. Sally saw him 
in his trim Quaker dress in an alder thicket, flitting 
his impudent tail, evidently asking himself what 
these intrusive strangers wanted here. 

“Joe and I used to come here when we were 
children/’ Sally said presently. “The place 


236 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

always had a kind of charm for us, it was so shut 
away and mysterious. Somebody told us once 
that this was a bottomless pool. We really 
believed that if we tumbled in we’d fall through 
and through until we came but in China or some- 
where else on the other side of the world. After 
that we were afraid of it, but still we loved to 
come.” 

William regarded her with a troubled smile. 

“But one day when the grass was slippery, I 
did tumble in, and Joe, the dear fellow, came 
splashing right in after me. He wasn’t going to 
let me drown alone. But what do you think ? 
The Deep Hole wasn’t deep at all. The water 
came scarcely to our knees. It’s the high banks 
and being so shaded that makes it look as though 
it might be deep. Such a disillusion!” Sally 
tried to speak lightly. 

“Sally,” William spoke in a low voice and 
regarded her intently. “Tell me what you 
thought. Why did you rush away like that ? ” 

She did not answer. He saw a crimson wave 
rising over her averted face. “Tell me what you 
thought, dear } ” He spoke the last word 
softly, lingeringly, as though he loved to say it. 
As she heard it an odd expression flitted across 
Sally’s lips, but still she did not look at him. 
He could endure her noncommittal attitude no 
longer. “Won’t you look at me? Please look 
at me.” 

She had never before heard that passionate 


THE DEEP HOLE 


m 


pleading in his voice. Never. She felt it stirring 
her spirit. “What did you think .? Please tell 
me.’' His persistence, very gentle, was yet inex- 
orable. She felt it such. She did not know how 
to evade or to deny it. Her lips trembled. 

“What did you think ? ” 

He would keep on asking until she answered. 
Sally knew it. 

“I thought perhaps the things I’d heard were 
true.” She spoke in a subdued voice as simply 
as a child. 

“Yes.'^” William’s tone grew businesslike. 
“What had you heard \ ” * 

If he would have it then. Sally glanced up at 
him courageously. “I heard you’d given food 
for scandal. That you were very intimate with 
a young widow up in Kirton. That you and she 
had been seen in compromising situations. People 
joked and said you weren’t all you seemed. 
Those things in the paper every week, you 
know.” 

Yes, William knew. He had writhed under 
the coarse malicious pleasantry. The editor of 
the Kirton Republican had a standing grudge 
against William Van Besten, as formerly against 
his father, as a prosperous and influential Demo- 
crat. This feeling had been intensified of late 
by personal friction in connection with civic 
affairs. The editor had not been above slinging 
poisoned arrows at the young merchant from his 
weekly editorial sheet. 


238 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Again the two were silent. Then Sally went on: 
“I said it wasn’t true. I didn’t believe a word 
of it. I knew you would never do anything dis- 
honorable. I said to myself that you had a right 
to have your own friends. You and some woman 
had been seen together a few times, and so horrid, 
disgusting gossip had been invented. I told 
Mrs. Lanson so and Millie.” 

He wondered why she paused so abruptly. 
Almost Sally had plunged into telling him how 
she had gone to consult Judge Burrall about 
setting him free. But although that was not so 
very long ago, it lay so far back now under inter- 
vening things that instinctively she avoided it. 
“Only I did think that perhaps you were getting 
interested in some one. That didn’t seem strange. 
But I was sure you wouldn’t do anything wrong.” 

“That’s where you were mistaken, you see.” 
There was pain in William’s quick speech. When 
he spoke again he surprised her. “Do you know 
what I’ve been finding out all this time you’ve 
been away .? I’ve found out how hard it is to get 
along without you, how much I love you. Sally, 
come to me.” 

But Sally shook her head. She rebuffed his 
entreating hand. 

“That other woman, William. You haven’t 
told me who she was. You haven’t told me what 
she wanted; why she was so unhappy.” 

She saw William’s face grow rigid as he faced 
her squarely. “No, but that’s what I brought 


THE DEEP HOLE 


239 


you out here to tell you. I came down to-day 
on purpose to tell you. Sally, I want you to 
know the very worst there is to know about me.” 

“Well, who is she?” Sally’s voice was hard. 

“She’s the woman I went to when I was deso- 
late and in need of any comfort I could find. 
The woman who did what she could for me and 
was kind and patient and generous to me always. 
The woman I deceived into thinking that I cared 
for her. Perhaps I deceived myself into thinking 
the same thing, but that was only for a very little 
while. Not that I ever lied to her. There are 
more ways than one of deceiving. She’s the 
woman I’ve basely misused. There’s the truth 
for you.” He flung the words at her defiantly. 

They looked at each other challengingly. 

“Why should you come to me if she’s been all 
that to you ? Why don’t you go to her ? ” A 
note of jealous pain made Sally’s voice uncertain. 

“That’s over. It was a mistake from first to 
last,” he told her sombrely. 

The pause grew too tense. Sally broke it. 
“You’ve spoiled everything,” she said almost 
childishly. 

“Sally, forgive me. Come to me.” 

She was agitated as she plucked at the willow 
leaflets. “Do you suppose I ever could now 
after what’s happened ? ” 

“Why not? Since I tell you that’s over and 
done with ? ” 

“Why not?” She flung the question back at 


240 AN INTERRUPTED HONETMOON 


him indignantly. “Because Fm not the kind of 
woman who can be happy at another woman’s 
expense. The thought that I had taken you 
away from her would always haunt me. Fd 
feel like a thief,” she declared energetically. 

“Sally,” William said harshly, “you mustn’t 
think Fm at your disposal like that. Fm not, 
you know. I shall never go back to her. Must 
I tell you again that’s done I ” 

His vehemence startled her, stung her to a sense 
of powerlessness to control the situation. 

“What is the use of discussing this matter any 
longer, since we never can agree ? I think we’d 
better go back to the house now,” she said, with 
an effort at jaunty independence. 

“Not yet,” William said masterfully. “Sit 
down and listen to me.” 

With a wavering glance at his set face,. Sally 
submissively perched herself upon a bough of 
the prostrate elm. William threw himself upon 
the mossy bole beside her. “Can a man do 
more than make open admission of his wrong- 
doing ? ” he demanded. “Would you have re- 
spected me more if Fd tried to keep this knowledge 
from you ” 

“No, ’ of course not.” Sally struggled for 
composure, hating herself because she felt tears 
so near. “But the admission doesn’t atone, 
doesn’t make wrong right, does it ? I can’t 
possibly feel toward you just as I did before I 
knew.” 


THE DEEP HOLE 


241 


‘‘That’s true enough,” he granted. “But it 
does establish a basis of sincerity. That’s what 
I want between you and me. You would send 
me back to her, would you Bid me try to main- 
tain a lie with her. Upon my word. I’m not sure 
but that my morality, such as it is, is of more 
washable quality than yours.” Then with a 
sudden transition that shook her composure, 
he bent over her. “Sally, do you remember 
the linen lawn \ Did you think me a mean- 
spirited curmudgeonly fellow that day ? Well, 
all the time I was longing to kiss you.” 

She flushed. “Even if I did care for you, it 
wouldn’t be right, abstractly right now, for me 
to be your wife. You’ve made that impossible, 
you see,” she said unsteadily. 

“Why that.?” 

“Because I never will condone such things. 
You haven’t any right to desert her and make her 
unhappy. You ought to go to her and be loyal 
to all you’ve led her to believe.” 

Something like anger sparkled in William’s 
gray eyes. “ Do you know what you’re doing .? 
Dressing up a dummy in your own nice feminine 
theories of life. Then you declare that’s what a 
man ought to be. What do you know about it .? 
Never mind the other woman. It was only fair 
that you should know about her, but she has 
nothing to do with the issue between you and me. 
The point is, do you care for me .? I want you. 
I ask you to join your life to mine. Sally, I 


242 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

I love you. It’s been growing in me ever since that 
day we met at the vendue. Hasn’t the same thing 
been growing in you, too ? Think what good times 
we’ve had. You have liked to have me around, 
haven’t you ? You made me welcome. Oh, Sally, 
don’t be stubborn! Don’t be unreasonable.” 

His pleading was hard to withstand. She strug- 
gled to do so. “No, no, I cannot do it. It 
doesn’t seem right to me.” 

“ My darling, don’t you know that there always 
is, there always must be, something for one of 
the two to put up with, to deal with charitably ? ” 
There was deep pain and yearning in his voice. 
The old calm, self-satisfied William Van Besten 
was gone forever, was utterly dead. This man 
showed that he had drunk the bitter draught 
of self-knowledge. 

“Dear girl, dear girl!” He spoke the words 
yearningly. “Are you clinging to the sweet old 
dreams still ? Wake up, Sally. The world isn’t 
what we used to think it was. It’s not for our 
adjusting. But we can do our little part toward 
making it a good place.” 

“Standards have to be maintained.” Sobs 
struggled in her throat. She turned her head and 
bit a pale gold stem of a willow leaflet and held 
her composure. 

“Schoolmistress! Yes. But it isn’t main- 
taining a standard to repudiate a sinner. You 
should help him to do better. You can, dear, if 
you will.” 


THE DEEP HOLE 


243 


“You ask too much.” She was pale now with 
agitation. She tried futilely to draw her hands 
away from his masterful, gentle hold. “ I wouldn’t 
repudiate you. I wouldn’t judge. As you say, 
I know nothing of a man’s life. But I — I can 
never marry you now. It wouldn’t be right.” 

Her decision challenged him. He read sorrow 
in her eyes. He sought and sought there for 
something else and was not sure whether or not he 
found it. “Dear, you are wrong. Isn’t life 
complicated enough that you should deliberately 
make it more so Don’t let us argue, theorize, 
as though life dwelt in abstractions. The time 
is so short. The years slip away so fast. We 
aren’t children any longer. How old are you, 
dear ? Twenty-eight. I’m thirty-four years old. 
Before I know it. I’ll be forty — middle-aged. 
Let’s live and love and bear joys and sorrows 
together as they come along. All possible help 
a man and woman can give each other we ought 
to give. Don’t let’s forbid ourselves the good 
things we may have because they do not satisfy 
us as ideal. I am faulty. You will have to be 
patient, to excuse often, but if you love me, you 
will be willing to do that. That’s a big part of 
loving — ^the biggest part, perhaps. Those whom 
we give most to are the ones we love the best. 
Oh, Sally, be generous!” 

She looked white and shaken as she drew 
away from him. “I can’t. I won’t. I won’t 
let you persuade me to do what I believe to be 


244 INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

wrong, what I’ve despised and condemned other 
people for doing ever since I knew anything at 
all about life.” 

“Never mind that. Tell me one thing. Do 
you want to come to me ? Sally, do you want to 
come ? ” 

She could not support his burning glance. His 
face looked wan with ardor. She felt singularly 
thrilled under a compulsion which she could not 
analyze, did not understand. 

“Do you, Sally?” 

“ How can I tell how I would feel if you hadn’t 
done this thing ? But you have done it, William, 
and it alters everything.” 

William squared his shoulders. The deter- 
mined manliness of the gesture was pleasing to 
her. “Listen to me, Sally. Don’t you know 
yet that it is impossible for a man to get away 
from his wrongdoings, his mistakes ? They haunt 
him always. The consequences persist. The 
remembrance brings shame. There’s always pun- 
ishment enough, God knows. Then why should 
you take it upon yourself to punish me ? ” 

“I do not,” she protested quickly. 

William caught up her hand and held it so tightly 
that his clasp hurt. “Then just forgive and come 
and help me to make good,” he whispered. 

The long silence grew trying. To end it, Sally 
spoke. “Oh, I can’t bear to talk about it any 
longer. I’m going home.” She had recovered 
composure. She looked exasperatingly trim and 


THE DEEP HOLE 


245 


unruffled as she sat on the willow bough. In 
her renunciation of William’s proposal, she felt 
herself rather finely living up to her own ideal 
of how a woman should face such a situation, 
should prompt a man to a higher ideal. She felt 
deeply excited, not altogether unhappy. The 
high romanticism of her own attitude was gratify- 
ing and impressive to her. 

“First tell me this,” William demanded. “Do 
you want to throw me off altogether ^ Obliterate 
me from your life ? Is that what you meant to 
convey when you ran away ? 

She was conscious of disconcerting chill at the 
suggestion. Over her surged realization of how 
much she would miss him if she tried to obliterate 
him as he said. Most assuredly she did not want 
to let him go so utterly as that. Nor did anything 
of the kind seem necessary. 

“No, certainly not, William. I didn’t mean 
anything of that kind. Not if you’ll be reasonable, 
that is.” 

She thought that he looked anything but reason- 
ably inclined. “Why can’t we keep on just as 
we have been doing these last weeks .? I don’t 
mind telling you that I value your friendship, 
William. I’ve enjoyed your visits.” 

“Friendship isn’t what will satisfy me. I ask 
more of you than that.” The stern demand of 
his tone gave her a shock. Then her spirit rose 
in resistance. 

“I’m sorry to hear you say that, William, for 


246 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


it’s all I can possibly give you.” She spoke 
coolly, pleased to feel herself once more mistress 
of the situation. 

“ Come, let’s go. Really, I must be getting 
home.” 

He laid his hand on her arm and looked deeply 
into her eyes. “This isn’t the end. Don’t 
imagine that it is.” 

They went silently down the lane homeward. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


LITTLE JOE HELPS THE SITUATION 

A MELLOW blaze burned steadily in the 
sitting-room hearth. Little Joe lay before 
it on the rug, happily building block houses. His 
mother sat sewing by the table. Sally and 
William came soberly into the peaceful home 
atmosphere. 

Annie looked up brightly. began to think 
you were lost,” she greeted them. “Get your 
blocks out of the way, Joe, and let Aunt Sally 
and Mr. Van Besten sit near the fire.” She 
slyly gave each a look of scrutiny. Their behav- 
ior of late had puzzled her extremely. She very 
much wanted to know if they had reached an 
understanding, but their faces told her nothing. 
William, always exasp era tingly noncommittal, had 
a curious sparkle in his eyes. Annie felt intu- 
itively that something of the load obviously 
oppressing him when he came had dropped 
away. Not all. She thought that Sally appeared 
oddly subdued, her cheeks flushed with more 
than their natural healthful bloom, her manner 
betraying an inward restlessness. 

247 


248 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“William, now Sally’s home you’ve no excuse 
for rushing straight away as you did last time. 
Stay and take supper with us, won’t you ? ” 

The Haselton house no longer felt like a prison 
to him. Mrs. Haselton’s easy hospitality was 
grateful to him. “You’re very good, Annie. I’d 
like to stay, but perhaps Sally’s had about all she 
can stand of me for one time ^ ” He looked at 
Sally straightforwardly, hailing her to endorse 
the invitation or to convey that she would rather 
have him go away. 

Sally roused herself. “Stay, of course, William. 
I’ll be glad to have you.” She meant it. From 
that interview at the Deep Hole she had brought 
back an uneasy desire to recover something that 
in his presence she had lost. Her light and easy 
independence had been dear to her. It bruised 
her self-esteem, this singular consciousness that 
somehow, when they were together, William sought 
to dominate — did sometimes. 

Joseph came home from the mill. “Well, now 
it’s good to see you, William.” He shook hands 
heartily. “ Hello, kid, what are you about down 
there?” He sniffed kitchenward. “Something 
smells mighty good. What are you going to give 
us for supper, old lady ? My, but it’s good to 
get home after a day’s work!” His coming 
enlivened the others — introduced a heartier note 
of cheer. His wife beamed with satisfaction at 
his promise of appetite. His boy babbled tire- 
lessly at his knee, careless whether he was heeded 


LITTLE JOE HELPS 


249 


or not. A sense of contrast between this home 
and his own, of the loneliness of his lot, smote 
William. He looked at Sally and found her 
regarding him with a kind of baffled inquiry. 

As penniless children feel wistfully the allure- 
ments of Christmas shop windows, gaze at treas- 
ures not for them, the two took note of the family 

py- 

Up in Kirton, William Van Besten prepared 
his breakfast expeditiously and ate it expeditiously. 
He felt no desire to linger at home. An energy 
that would permit no idling possessed him. Time 
was when he had been scrupulously attentive to 
his housekeeping. He had prided himself upon 
applying to its homely detail the principles which 
made him successful. But he had been seized 
by a great distaste for this woman’s business. 
He decided to stop on his way into Kirton and 
engage his charwoman to come every day and 
put things to rights. It was ridiculous for a man 
of affairs like himself to be giving his attention 
to washing dishes. 

Nor was he inclined to give much attention to 
his collection. Catalogues of antiques, sales 
announcements, no longer held him. They accu- 
mulated in a dusty heap on the sitting-room lounge. 
He no longer held gently melancholy communion 
with that shadowy band, the dead owners of 
the old tables and chairs, but was quite willing 
that they should rest peacefully in their graves. 

William Van Besten felt life quicken in his veins. 


250 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

He looked back now with slightly contemptuous 
wonder upon the man he long had been. The 
inert fellow had pursued the daily grind spirit- 
lessly, like a horse in the treadmill. William 
knew now that whatever else life was meant to 
be, it was not meant to be meaningless. It surely 
was no man’s part to endure supinely. It was 
his prerogative to demand and to grasp the rich 
pleasures of life. In future that was what he 
would do. People who knew him, encountering 
him, regarded him with some curiosity. A novel 
alertness had changed his general bearing, quick- 
ened his step. Every clerk in his employ felt 
him more human, more approachable, than he 
had been. 

Wherever he went, whatever he did, he carried 
the thought of Sally with him. He condemned 
her attitude toward him as wrong, fanatical. 
What a bright, happy face she had when disa- 
greeable thoughts did not oppress her. What 
laughing gleams came and went in her clear eyes. 
How quickly her healthful color deepened in 
response to inner emotion. 

In the evening, when he sat surrounded by his 
collection, he invoked Sally to visit him. His 
book, his paper, lay forgotten. His spirit attended 
her as she went about the rooms enlivening its 
dull quiet with her merry comment. No one 
else’s laugh came with such a gush of genuine 
heart cheer. Often he mentally paid tribute to 
her plucky independence. Not many girls situ- 


LITTLE JOE HELPS 251 

ated like Sally would have had force and courage 
to win so definite and honorable a position. 

But he wished she had not. Sally was too 
independent. Her easy, unquestioning self- 
reliance challenged a man. Now if she were 
more like her sister-in-law, like Annie, with her 
truly feminine way of turning to Joseph Haselton 
in all her daily dilemmas, sure that he could and 
would solve all her perplexities. William liked Joe 
Haselton, but thought him a sufficiently common- 
place fellow. Obviously, he was not common- 
place to Annie. It was amusing to hear Annie 
quote Joseph — “Joe says’’ — as ultimate authority. 
It was amusing, and yet after all William believed 
that the proper attitude for a woman. Still, 
William did not wish Sally different from what 
she was. He had come to perceive that even her 
faults, her foibles, were dear to him. He had 
never thought her an exquisite piece of perfection. 
She was satisfyingly human, every bit of her. 
Sometimes in those day-dreams of his, walking up 
and down in a blue veil of cigar smoke, he per- 
ceived himself and her quarrelling. But the 
quarrelling only added zest to underlying joy of 
companionship. Three long days since he had 
seen her. He would drive down to-morrow. 
How would it be to send her a line that she might 
expect him ? Then she could arrange to have 
the coast clear of customers, the tiresome, always 
interrupting customers. 

As she sat sewing, Sally glanced out less often 


252 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

at the village street, which for so long had enter- 
tained her with its mild drama of life. A more 
vital drama unfolding within herself rivetted her 
attention. She tried in vain not to think of it. 
Over and over again she reviewed her interview 
with William at the Deep Hole, every time felt 
more dissatisfied, for it seemed to her that she had 
not properly upheld her own dignity, or the 
dignity of the unhappy young widow up in Kirton. 
She had purposed a renunciation which she had 
felt as highly unselfish and noble. William had 
treated her purposed course with something 
resembling contempt. 

“Never mind her, the issue now is between 
you and me.” That is what he had said. 

But he must be shown the loyalty of one woman 
to another. He must also be taught that although 
Sarah Van Besten valued his companionship, she 
had a will and a mind of her own equal to his. 

Their companionship was so pleasant that each 
time he came she hesitated to spoil it for the mo- 
ment by reminding him of its limitations. But 
when he was away from her, she sometimes felt 
strong impatience of a claim w^hich she could not 
help feeling was gradually strengthening. William 
was a friend, a valued friend to be sure, but since 
he could never be anything more, it was weak 
and unworthy to allow herself to depend upon his 
visits. Then she wondered when he would come 
again, so that she could begin the demonstration. 

Millie, Mrs. Morris Stetson now, and the living 


LITTLE JOE HELPS 


253 


picture of a happy bride, ran up the Haselton 
steps and opened the door. She and Morris had 
driven up to Kirton that day and were just re- 
turned. She was still her friend Sally’s next door 
neighbor, for Morris had gone to live at the 
Thompson’s upon his marriage. The shabby 
house had been put to rights, painted. It looked 
quite a different place. 

‘‘Where are you, Sally.?” Millie called, as she 
hurried on into the sitting-room. “I’ve some- 
thing for you.” She waved a note. “Mr. Van 
Besten asked me if I would be so kind as to hand 
you this. I was in the store you know. We had 
quite a chat together. Sally, I never knew before 
that Mr. Van Besten could be so pleasant. I’ve 
always thought he was rather stiff. But he 
wasn’t to-day.” 

Sally took the note, and held it unopened. 
“Did you and Morris have a successful day? 
Did you find what you wanted ? ” 

“Almost everything. Sally, we had lots of 
fun. You’ve no idea what a capable shopper 
Morris is. Why, it was a revelation to me to 
see him shop.” 

Sally regarded her admiringly. Shabby Millie 
Thompson existed no longer. “Millie, matri- 
mony is certainly becoming to you. I never saw 
you look better.” Tenderly Sally took the girl 
by the shoulders and looked wistfully into her 
face. “You’re every bit as happy as you expected 
to be, aren’t you ? ” 


254 INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“Happier,” Millie answered proudly, with a 
proud look. The color rose in her cheeks at a 
word these days. Her girlish prettiness was fast 
maturing to more significant beauty. She bore 
herself with new dignity. Her former flutter of 
uncertainty was gone. 

“Why, when I think I might not have known 

Morris, he might not have cared for me ” 

tears actually came to her eyes. She laughed as 
she winked them away. “I guess you think Fm 
an awful silly about Morris. But nobody knows 
what he really is but me.” 

A hungry look, of which she was unconscious, 
peeped out of the clear eyes of the older girl woman. 

“Say, Sally, what are you going to wear to the 
Wynnes, Monday night .? ” Millie, who had 
gone shabby all her days, frankly delighted in 
her pretty new clothes. 

“I don’t know. I haven’t given it a thought,” 
Sally answered. “What are you going to wear ? ” 
She spoke absent-mindedly, her mind on the 
letter in her hand. 

Millie looked intensely considering. “My red 
dress, I guess, the one with the ecru lace.” She 
brightened. “Morris just loves that gown. He 
says Fm a stunner when Fve got that on. Isn’t 
it awfully vain of me to repeat that Well, he’ll 
be expecting me. I told him I’d come right back. 
I only ran over to give you the note.” 

When Millie had gone, Sally opened her note. 
She looked puzzled, half-amused, half-irritated at 


LITTLE JOE HELPS 


255 


what she read. “Listen, Annie. Isn^t this pro- 
voking ? William’s sent me word that he means 
to drive down to-morrow.” 

Sally and Annie and little Joe had planned to 
pass the next day with friends living a few miles 
from Manorton. Mr. Haselton was to join them 
in time for supper and bring his family home in 
the evening. When she had agreed to the arrange- 
ment Sally had been disconceited to feel reluctance 
to it because, possibly, just possibly, William 
might elect that day to drive down. What was she 
coming to, that such a chance should influence 
her, she queried of herself indignantly and 
promptly accepted the invitation. 

It was something new for William to notify her 
of his coming. Well, he couldn’t expect her to 
topsy-turvey all her arrangements, even if he had. 

“Oh,” Mrs. Flaselton exclaimed regretfully. 
“Isn’t that unfortunate?” She held her needle- 
work suspended. “See here, Sally, if you’d like 
to stay home, I can easily tell the Stimpsons that 
you found you couldn’t come. Your work is 
always a good and sufficient excuse, you know. 
It’s too bad to let William drive all the way down 
for nothing, and you can’t possibly send him 
word.” 

“No,” Sally considered. Annie divined that 
she wanted to agree to the proposition. Then 
Sally shook her head. “What a way to treat 
people!” It was particularly unfortunate. She 
had not seen William since their interview at the 


256 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Deep Hole. A few days after that he had come 
but upon that occasion she had been out driving 
with Ed Allen. 

‘‘No, no, of course I can’t do that.” She 
spoke petulantly. “I’m sorry things conflict, 
but I can’t help it. Think how long I’ve been 
promising the Stimpsons.” 

“But it is hard on William.” 

“I can’t help that. An engagement is an 
engagement,” Sally said in a positive way. 

“What ails Sally ” Joseph Haselton inquired 
of his wife as he encountered her in the hall. 
“Something seems to have put her out of sorts.” 

“Foolish girl,” Annie answered, in a low 
confidential tone, and told him of William’s note. 
“She’s just crazy to stay at home for him, but she 
won’t let herself do it. She might just as well as 
not. I’d make it all right with the Stimpsons.” 

“That pair are beyond me,” Joseph commented. 
“ Let them paddle their own canoe, they’re bound 
to do it anyway.” 

The house was bolted and barred. The Hasel- 
ton family left it early in the morning. They 
found no indication of William’s visit on their 
return. Sally looked about eagerly, vainly, for 
some scrap of a note. She felt compunction in 
spite of herself. Had he been angry ? Much 
disappointed ? Next time he came this disap- 
pointment should be made up to him. In her 
mind she promised him that even with eagerness. 

To-morrow morning he would receive the note 


LITTLE JOE HELPS 


257 


she had mailed before she went visiting. That 
would instruct him in two matters, that she 
could not allow him to make her deviate from 
obligations to other people, and that she never- 
theless felt kind and friendly toward him. 

This was Tuesday. Perhaps he would drive 
down on Thursday. Certainly he would be down 
again before the end of the week. She felt a 
pleasant thrill of exultation in the consciousness 
that she was a magnet strong to draw him before 
many days. She was distinctly surprised when 
Thursday passed — and Friday, without a sign of 
him. The week ran out, and half another, and 
still William did not come. Sally missed him. 

‘‘Tell me a story. Aunt Sally. You haven’t 
told me a story for a long time, and you haven’t 
put me to bed, and you haven’t took me out 
walking nor nothing,” little Joe complained. 

Sally took his plump little body into her arms 
with some compunction. The arraignment was 
just. In her preoccupation she had neglected 
little Joe of late. But she loved him; loved the 
feel of his heavy little head nestled in her neck. 
She kissed his short tumbled curls, kissed down 
the w^hite lids over the accusing eyes. “I know 
I haven’t, darling. Aunt Sally’s been so busy.” 
She propped him up on her lap with a firm clasp 
on each shoulder. “Do you want to go up to 
Kirton with me to-morrow ? We’ll drive up wdth 
Mr. Herter in the big mail wagon and then wee’ll 
go in the shops and see all the beautiful things. 


258 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Won’t that be fine ? ” Little Joe wriggled with 
delight. He had never been to Kirton, never 
been beyond a few miles from Manorton in his 
short life. He drew a long breath of satisfaction. 
On the way up, his Aunt Sally devoted herself to 
his entertainment with something of an effort. 
Little Joe was a darling and she must always 
love him, but after all he belonged to Annie and 
Joe. She had no real rights in him. She felt 
desolately that she had no one really of her own. 
Of late she had felt constantly restless and dis- 
satisfied. 

Energetic Sally pulled her spirit out of retro- 
spection. This was little Joe’s day and she 
meant to make it a glorious one. They went to 
the toy shop first of all, and expended the accumu- 
lation of Joe’s bank kept on the sitting-room 
mantel at home. All the family had taken a hand 
at breakfast time in shaking the pennies out of 
the white china hen. Mr. Haselton had added 
a quarter to his son’s store and Aunt Sally had 
added another quarter. Little Joe felt his re- 
sources boundless. It was a surprise, a blow, to 
hand it all over to the tall and smiling toyshop 
man in exchange for the horse and wagon which 
he demanded as soon as he spied it on the counter. 

The wonders of Kirton were revealed to his 
staring, happy eyes as he and Aunt Sally went 
about their errands. While she tried hard to 
think of nothing but making him happy, she 
could not help wondering if she would see William 


259 


LITTLE JOE HELPS 

to-day. She had sent him a note explanatory oi 
her absence, of the locked house he had found. 
Why couldn’t he have demonstrated that he took 
the sensible view of the matter by coming down 
again in a day or two ? Uneasiness lingered with 
her because he had not done so. Little Joe 
looked up discontentedly into her thoughtful face. 
“You’ve forgot me, Aunt Sally. You’ve forgot 
’bout me.” He tugged at her hand. 

“Oh, no, I haven’t. We’re going in here now 
to buy Aunt Sally’s things.” She led him into 
Van Besten’s. “Look around, dearie, and see 
if you can find anything that mother would like 
us to bring home.” William was not in sight. 
Should she ask to see him just to add a pleasant 
explanatory word to her note ? But would she 
be able to do so in that properly light and disen- 
gaged manner which must have nothing of apology 
in it .f* He couldn’t expect her to be always in 
readiness for him as though he were the only 
friend she had in the world. The clerk who had 
waited upon Mrs. Van Besten before and found 
her a particularly alert and capable shopper, 
wondered at her present absent-mindedness. Once 
she started and turned quickly from the counter. 
A tall man was passing close behind her. But it 
was not William, as she had for an instant believed 
— only a customer. “That’s all for to-day, I think.” 
She sat irresolutely on the revolving seat before 
the counter. No, she could not see William. 
He might misunderstand. She had entirely for- 


26 o an interrupted HONEYMOON 

gotten little Joe. When she rose to leave Van 
Besten’s, she remembered Joe. She looked 
around for him in vain. No one had seen the 
small boy flit away. With misgiving upon her, 
she hurried out to the street. She reproached 
herself for her carelessness. How could she have 
let the child out of her sight ^ Oh, it was in- 
excusable of her. 

She looked up and down the street. He could 
not be far away. Her straining eyes demanded 
the chubby, blue-clad figure. Her anxiety flut- 
tered more boisterously. Sally pressed her hand 
quickly against her jumping heart. Of course 
nothing could happen to him. What could 
happen I She went from one to another of all 
the places to which she had taken him, looking 
expectantly in all the doors she passed. The 
people whom she stopped to ask if they had noticed 
a small, curly-haired boy in a blue suit were 
interested and sympathetic, but could give her no 
clue. Someone advised her to inquire at the 
police station and she hurried there with fresh hope 
only to be disappointed. Where was he, little 
tender Joe, who had never been anywhere from 
home before to-day ? Her startled imagination 
conjured up pictures of him struggling in the rough 
grasp of big, jeering, brutal boys, or bitten by 
a savage dog, or run down by some truck. The 
little heedless child knew nothing of town streets. 
She grew sick and faint at the train of hideous 
possibilities which presented themselves. 


26 i 


LITTLE JOE HELPS 

Her load of anxiety became intolerable. Breath- 
less, almost exhausted, she hurried back to Van 
Besten’s. Heedless of the clerks, she passed 
quickly through the store to William’s office, 
tapped on the door, then opened it precipitately 
without waiting for an answer. William rose in 
surprise. “Why, Sally!” He caught her hands. 

“William, Fm in such trouble. You must help 
me. You must tell me what to do.” 

His pulses leaped to her appeal. In her agita- 
tion, her impulsiveness, she was all feminine. 

“What is it, dear? Tell me.” He caught her 
arm to steady her. For an instant she leaned 
against him with a blessed sense of help at hand. 
Then she straightened herself. “William, Fve 
lost Joe. I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve been 
to the police station. I’ve been everywhere. Oh, 
I’m so frightened about him!” 

“Nonsense,” William said reassuringly. “The 
boy’s probably all right. Compose yourself, 
Sally. We’ll find him. You’re frightening your- 
self unnecessarily. I’m sure.” 

His resolute matter-of-fact tone calmed her. 
“Oh, I hope so. I hope so. Oh, William, if 
anything happened to Joe I never could face 
Annie!” She looked piteous. 

“Sit down a minute.” William touched her 
arm again. 

“Oh, I couldn’t sit down!” 

“Yes, you can. No use exhausting yourself. 
I’m going out with you directly, but I want to 


262 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


understand first.” Involuntarily she yielded to 
his calm compulsion and sat down. William 
was a prop. ‘‘When did you miss him?” 

“More than an hour ago. It’s time now for 
Perry to start back. I don’t know what to do.” 

“Let Perry go along. I’ll drive you and the 
boy down later. Where is Perry ? At the post 
office ? I’ll step over and tell him to go along, 
and send some word to Annie that’ll save her all 
anxiety. Wait here, Sally. I’ll be back for you 
in five minutes. Why, Sally, it’s not like you to 
go to pieces like this!” 

“It’s Annie — the thought of Annie’s face if I 
had to go home without Joe.” She looked at 
him in agony, craving reassurance. 

“Why conjure up horrors? In all probability 
the boy’s all right.” 

In the most natural way in the world, William 
took charge of her and of the situation. She was 
glad to let him, to lean on his man’s strength, but 
she felt that she had no choice in the matter. He 
dispelled the despair that had her in grip when 
she came to him. She looked up with a wavering 
effort to appear composed. 

“ I know you think I’m dreadfully foolish to go 
to pieces this way. I suppose I am. William, 
I’ve no business to descend upon you in this way — 
a busy man like you!” 

William did not answer in words. He looked 
at her. “Wait here, Sally,” he said briskly as 
he left her. He was soon back, having dismissed 


263 


LITTLE JOE HELPS 

Perry with a noncommittal message to Mrs. Hasel- 
ton. He and Sally set forth upon the search. 
William enlisted scouts in the quest, telephoned 
himself to the police station. Sally was growing 
more and more haggard. She would not show 
herself weak, hysterical, before William. Terror 
haunted her, dim figures of possible kidnappers 
maltreating the little, petted baby. 

“Oh, where can he be.? William, can you 
think of another thing to do ? ’’ 

For a few minutes little Joe had enjoyed revolv- 
ing on the seat beside her. But he thought that 
Aunt Sally was a long time buying buttons and 
other uninteresting things. Presently he slid 
down from his seat and going to the door looked 
out into the street. Aunt Sally looked around. 
“Don’t go out of the door, Joe,” she admonished, 
“ril be through in a minute now.” 

But that was a long minute. Exactly across 
the street from Van Besten’s was the drugstore. 
Joe and Aunt Sally had visited it earlier in the 
day. Great beautiful globes of color — blue and 
crimson and amber — bloomed in the druggist’s 
window. They fascinated Joe, much as the 
glittering fruit of the enchanted tree must have 
fascinated Aladdin when first he wandered into 
magic gardens. The lovely colors allured Joe. 
He went slowly out of the door, across the street 
and stood staring at the druggist’s window. 
Then he entered the store. He remembered that 
he was thirsty. His yellow-brown curls barely 


264 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


reached to the marble counter. “Please give me 
some more ? 

“Some more what, young man?’’ The drug- 
gist’s clerk, in a white crash coat, leaned across 
to look down on the small customer. 

Joe looked up at him respectfully. “It’s 
pink,” he explained earnestly. “It’s got soap- 
suds on top.” 

“ Got the spondulixs with you ? ” 

“Sir?” Joe’s innocent face looked inquiry. 

“ Got any money ? ” 

Joe sought in a small pocket for a small purse. 
He displayed five bright pennies, all that remained 
of the funds with which he had started out with 
that morning. 

The clerk swept them over to his side of the 
counter. “That’s it. Now, what’ll you take?” 

“It’s pink,” Joe repeated. 

“Are you trying to tell me you want a straw- 
berry soda ? ” 

Joe did not know; he waited. 

The clerk mixed one and set it down before 
him. “Try that.” 

With a contented sigh, Joe grasped the tall, 
brimming tumbler ydth both hands. 

“Fills the bill, does it?” The clerk reached 
over and gave the soda a stir. “Now go ahead.” 

Joe went ahead. When he had drained the 
last delicious drop, he stood on tiptoe to replace 
the tumbler on the counter. “Thank you, sir,” 
he said. 


LITTLE JOE HELPS 


265 


“Don^t mention it,” said the druggist’s clerk. 

Joe went back to Main Street to see if Aunt 
Sally wasn’t ready now. He stopped to watch 
the trolley cars rattling up and down. He saw 
a man raise his finger and the car stop and take 
him on. In the wonderland in which Joe was 
wandering to-day, that gesture was evidently 
one of the signs and passports. When he saw 
the next car coming, he stepped boldly to the curb 
and raised his short forefinger. The car stopped. 
Joe climbed aboard. He was kneeling on the seat, 
his face close to the window, happy in the motion 
and the spectacle, when the conductor touched his 
shoulder. “Fare, please.” Joe turned inquiringly 
and stared up into the conductor’s face. 

“Where’s your money, kid ? ” 

Joe shook his head. “The man took it. It’s 
all gone,” he said sadly. 

“ It is, eh ? What did you mean by getting on 
this car if you can’t pay ” 

“I didn’t know you had to pay,” Joe said 
simply. He looked up innocently, untearingly at 
the conductor, greatly impressed by his blue 
uniform, his round gold buttons. 

“You didn’t know you had to pay.? The 
mischief you didn’t!” The conductor’s words 
were rough, but his eyes, his manner were kind. 
Joe felt him a friend and waited in tranquility of 
spirit for the big man with the gold buttons to 
dispose of him. 

“See here, kid, where do you want to go.?” 


266 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


“Want to take a ride,” Joe told him happily. 

“Oh, you do? Well, where are your folks 
meanwhile ? ” 

“ My father’s at the paper mill. When I’m a big 
man I’m going to help my father at the paper mill.” 

“Where do you live anyhow ? ” 

“Home,” said Joe. 

“Well, you’re going to get your ride all right,” 
the conductor admitted. “I can’t drop a stray 
kid like you out on the street. You’ll have to go 
along now all the way to North Kirton and then 
I’ll fetch you back again to where I picked you 
up. I reckon you’re givin’ somebody a good 
scare.” Unconcernedly Joe knelt up on the seat 
again to look out of the window. 

The trolley jangling its leisurely way up Main 
Street stopped on the corner. Joe climbed down 
the steps, propelled in part by the strong guiding 
hand of the conductor. He stood bewildered. 
Wondering where Aunt Sally was. Another 
moment and his fortitude would have deserted 
him. Then he felt himself clutched. 

“There he is!” Sally had flown to him, 
caught hold of him, hugged him, shook him. 
“Oh, Joe, you darling! You wicked, wicked boy! 
How could you run away from Aunt Sally ? ” 

Joe’s blue eyes grew round with amazement at 
Aunt Sally’s excitement. 

William Van Besten regarded the culprit with 
no unkindness. “Step back to the store for a few 
minutes, will you, Sally, and I’ll order my horse.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


IN THE FIELDS 

W ILLIAM, you are very restless to-day.” 
Sally spoke lightly, in an effort to restore 
ease that she felt to be lacking. She sat in a 
corner of the sofa, and near her, drawn compan- 
ionably near, was a big hospitable chair. She 
glanced at William and then invitingly toward 
the chair. But William seemed to shun cush- 
ioned ease. He continued to wander around 
the room, to gaze absently from the windows out 
at the autumnal sunshine. 

“Have you been out for a walk to-day.?” he 
asked abruptly. “No? Then what do you say 
to a tramp instead of sitting in this warm room 
all the afternoon ? ” 

The request sounded insistent. He seemed 
consumed by some inner irritation that she did 
not entirely fathom. He came close to her, 
bending over, his face close to her’s. “Come, 
won’t you ? ” 

She felt him hesitate a moment before he took 
her hand and drew her gently to her feet. 

267 


268 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


Sally looked merry and girlish as she laughingly 
yielded. Life had grown easier since she had 
determined not to question any longer but to 
accept this pleasant, enlivening companionship 
simply with a good grace.” 

‘‘You needn’t be so persuasive. Fm per- 
fectly willing to take a walk.” 

She, as well as he, felt imperious need of wan- 
dering away from the placid everyday setting, 
out somewhere into the vague space of dreams. 
She, too, was intolerably restless. 

Annie saw her coming downstairs with coat and 
hat. “Are you going out, Sally.? I don’t sup- 
pose you’re going anywhere near the mill .? ” 
She looked perplexed. 

“Why .? ” 

“Ed Moore’s just been here with a note for 
Joe. It’s from his father about that straw. I’d 
like Joe to have it. I tried to find one of the 
Thompson children to send over with it, but I 
couldn’t.” 

“We’re just going for a walk. We can go 
that way as well as not.” Sally took the note. 
Swiftly into her mind came the satisfying recol- 
lection that they could go out the back door and 
take a short cut to the mill. She and William 
need not parade through the village street, which 
both detested doing. 

William, eager and gratified, was waiting to 
help her on with her coat. As they went out into 
the hall, little Joe’s pattering feet sounded on 


IN THE FIELDS 269 

the porch. Sally put up her hand with a caution- 
ing gesture. 

“Hush, there comes Joe. This way, William. 
The back door. If he sees us, he’ll want to 
go to. He’ll cry. We’ll have a scene. Hurry!” 

Stealthily, like conspirators, they slipped 
through the back hall. While Joe’s short arms 
were reaching for the front doorknob, they closed 
the back door behind them. Sally laughed 
gleefully. “Safe from pursuit,” she ejaculated 
dramatically. “Now, William!” Like mis- 
chievous children they sped across the yard and 
through the side gate to -the country road which 
led into the village. 

It was not far to the mill. Joseph saw them 
coming and opened his office door to greet them. 

“Well, hello, unexpected pleasure!” 

“Annie wanted you to have this note.” Sally 
handed it to him. “So we told her we’d bring it.” 

“Much obliged.” He gave the two a quiz- 
zical look of humorous comprehension, which 
they pretended not to notice. Then he became 
the eager host. “William, you’ve never seen my 
mill, have you f Now you’re here you must take 
a look around. Of course, it’s an old story to 
Sally.” 

With bustling pride Joseph conducted them. 

The low, plum-colored mill was a pleasant and 
peaceful spot in which to earn one’s livelihood. 
So William thought. The great pale amber 
straw stacks were its props and sentinels. One 


270 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

was half demolished. A couple of Joe’s hands 
were pulling it down, loading it on handtrucks 
and bearing it into the building to be converted 
into pulp. 

“I’ve splendid water power, you see.” 

The three watched the great wheel churn the 
water into foam. Above the dam lay the mill 
pond, glassy smooth. The whirr of machinery 
was like the busy hum of gigantic insects, not 
inharmonious. 

“Come inside.” 

They went with him from press to press, saw 
the pulp put in at one end and emerge brown 
and wet, in great sheets of paper, at the other. 
Then it was spread in the dryers. In one room a 
couple of youths were arranging the paper in 
bundles to be taken to Kirton. Joseph supplied 
many Kirton shops. What was not marketed 
there was shipped thence to New York. For the 
moment William gave his mind entirely to paper 
making. He asked pertinent questions and 
listened thoughtfully to Joseph’s explanation. 
Sally quite wondered at his interest. He seemed 
almost to have forgotten her. 

“Step in here. This is my office. Glass all 
around, you see, so that I can keep an eye on 
what’s going on outside.” 

Annie’s photograph and little Joe’s in plain 
frames stood on Joseph’s desk. He saw William 
look at them. 

“I like to keep my family in sight, you see,” 


IN THE FIELDS 


271 


he confessed, in his bluff, cheerful way. “It 
feels sort of good to look at ’em once in awhile, 
and remember that they’re waiting for me in the 
old sheebang.” 

As they said good-bye and pursued their way, 
William knew that they were leaving a con- 
tented man. 

Without a word, by common consent, they 
avoided the lane that led to the Deep Hole. That 
way was invested with disagreeable recollections. 
There they had wrestled with differences of opinion 
to no purpose and had wounded each other. 
They had suffered since when they had tried to 
be content apart. But to-day all was to be gay 
and pleasant between them if Sally could make 
it so. 

As they went away from the village, the stretches 
between the houses became longer and longer. 
The fronts of the farm-houses had the closed and 
forbidding aspect of the disused. Their occupants 
lived mainly in the kitchen and in the rear rooms, 
keeping with mistaken unselfishness their best 
rooms all shut up for the rare, great occasions. 
Nearly everybody was busy out of doors. The 
sprites of autumn were abroad — piling heaps of 
red apples and of green in the orchards, rolling 
together the glowing pumpkins, heaping up the 
yellow corn. The air was charged with fruity 
smells. The rustling cornstalks sounded pleas- 
antly as the farmer, sitting in the sunshine on a 
bundle of stalks in the lee of the shock, ripped off 


272 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

the silvery husks. There was a great deal doing 
on the farms to-day. Sally and William stopped 
at a barn door to watch a horse plodding with 
patient good-will its wearisome, unending way 
up and up a thrashing machine. The rye rolled 
out on the floor, a glistening heap bristling with 
chaff. On either side a man thrust back the yellow 
straw which sooner or later was likely to find its 
way to Joe Haselton’s mill. The coming of the 
threshers was one of the year’s important events. 
Then the farmer’s wives cooked generous supplies 
of pies and cakes, and their husbands and children 
looked forward to feasting. The work was hard. 
The threshers, covered with sweat and dust and 
prickly chaff, were supported by the prospect of 
washing up and satisfying their toil-stimulated 
appetites. The owner of the thrashing machine 
lived in the neighborhood. They were friends 
and equals of those who employed them and when 
the day was over would sit down with them for a 
social hour or so before stretching out their weary 
muscles in bed. 

‘‘It’s a fine sight, all this wholesome out-of- 
door toil,” William commented. 

“Oh, look at that!” Sally started with a thrill 
of repulsion. In a corner of the orchard they 
were passing, a butchering had just taken place. 
Three men and a boy were too intent upon their 
task to more than glance at the two pedestrians. 
The fair beauty of the day had been tarnished 
here. The ground was trampled and blood- 


IN THE FIELDS 


273 


stained. Two hogs, scraped and split, hung from 
an orchard bough. Their smooth skin gleamed 
white. Their jaws, which had protested against 
the violent death allotted them, were still wide 
open. From a crossbar swung on two forked 
uprights, hung an enormous black kettle in which 
lard was being tried out. The smell of the 
bubbling fat floated through the orchard boughs. 
Every member of the family was lending a hand 
in the butchering. Under a small shed near by 
the women were preparing the hockies, the ears, 
for souse, and cutting up meat for headcheese, and 
setting aside the sausage meat to he minced and 
seasoned. 

“Poor things!” Sally apostrophized the hogs. 
She found something appealing in their gaunt 
white bodies. But the farmer’s family knew no 
weak, sentimental pity. They worked cheerfully 
in the midst of raw, unpleasant odors and the 
heavy sizzle of the fat. To them butchering 
promised fresh pork fixings and plenty of excellent 
winter cheer. William and Sally hurried on as 
fast as they could. 

“Weren’t you ever coming down to see us any- 
more ” She looked at him with challenge, yet 
with a touch of wistful reproach. 

“Did you miss me Are you glad I’ve come 
to-day ? ” He was very serious. 

Sally surprised herself. She could not appear 
lightly nonchalent as she wished to appear. She 
had been too lonely, too many days. The unrest 


274 INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


of the bootless expectancy came over her again 
and she knew that she wanted no more of it; 
“Yes/’ she said, simply and earnestly. 

“Then you’ll see more of me,” William assured 
her buoyantly. 

“You know I wrote. You know I was sorry 
to disappoint you. I wrote you our visit had all 
been arranged before I heard you were coming.” 

“I understand that, Sally, but I understand 
something else, too. I knew that if you had 
wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see you, 
I wouldn’t have found the empty house at the end 
of my journey.” 

Sally did not answer. 

“That wasn’t all, you know. What about the 
time before that, when I arrived only to find that 
you’d gone driving with some man. Who was 
it, Sally ? ” There was another note now in 
his voice. 

“Oh, that day! Why, I was out with Ed 
Allen that day. How did I know you were going 
to come ? ” 

“I remember the fellow, but how did you come 
to be driving with Ed Allen anyway ” 

“Now really, William!” Sally was half laugh- 
ing, half vexed. “Why not, if I wanted to?” 
Then she relented before a certain sternness in 
William’s dissatisfied countenance. “William, 
please don’t be foolish. Ed had to take a long 
drive to collect money due on a mortgage, and he 
asked me to go along for company. Why, I’ve 


IN THE FIELDS 


275 


known Ed Allen ever since we were babies. We 
used to be taken out in the same baby carriage.” 

“That’s no reason why you should keep on in 
the same carriage, is it .? ” But William’s tone 
was easier. He regarded her with a mollified 
expression. The cloud of constraint was fast 
evaporating. The sparkling air made them buoy- 
ant and cheerful. 

At nearly every place something interesting, 
something significant of the season was going on. 
They went their way like two children keen for 
all the sights and sounds. The pungent smell 
of pumice came to them. 

“They must be making cider at the Keeners’,” 
Sally said. “They have a press, William. Aren’t 
you thirsty Let’s investigate.” Lifting her 
skirts daintily, she picked her way across the 
debris of a barnyard through a surprised con- 
gregation of chickens, ducks, and turkeys. The 
cider press was on the other side of the barn. Mr. 
Keener and his son nodded taciturn but friendly 
greeting. 

“How do you do,. Mr. Keener.? I wonder if 
we could have a sip of your cider ? ” 

“All you want and welcome,” the farmer told 
them. “Only you’ll have to drink out of the 
bung, I reckon. We ain’t got no cup.” 

William laughed out. “It’s a case for straws, 
Sally. I haven’t sucked cider through a straw 
since I was ten years old.” 

“There’s plenty of straws.” Mr. Keener 


276 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

waved hospitably toward the upper barn. “Go 
along in and choose for yerselves and drink as 
much cider as yer a mind ter. Apples is plenty 
this fall.” Sally selected the straws. William cut 
them into long even lengths with his sharp knife. 
Mr. Keener regarded them benevolently when they 
came out of the barn. “This ’ere’s no good 
yet,” he said. “It was apples an hour ago. 
Try that barrel yonder.” He obligingly drew 
the bung for them. 

Perched on stones on either side of the fat 
iron-bound barrel, William and Sally took long 
satisfying draughts of the cold sweet cider which, 
as Mr. Keener said, was “just beginning to get 
a head onto it.” Their heads came very close 
together. Their laughing faces almost touched. 
Their straws clashed and they gaily upbraided 
each other. For two sedate people they were 
certainly behaving childishly, falling into senseless 
merriment at the veriest trifle. Mr. Keener and 
his son watched them with sympathetic grins. 
Sally and William rose up from the cider barrel 
finally, flushed with the exertion of drinking 
from it. 

“That was good! Thank you, Mr. Keener. 
You mustn’t forget to bring some of your cider 
to the house next time you come to the village. 
My brother will want some, I know,” Sally said. 

They went their way. 

“This road is pretty thickly settled, isn’t it.?” 

The bars of a pasture were drawn open — 


IN THE FIELDS 


277 


William turned into the field. Sally went docilely 
at his side. The Manorton creek, growing smaller 
and smaller as it neared its origin in the hills, 
coursed through the pasture. The stems of the 
weeds and grasses on its edges were spangled 
with thinnest glass-clear ice, but in the middle 
the current ran deep and strong, swollen with the 
fall rains. A cow trail meandered on from field 
to field. They followed it aimlessly. Little 
green burrs or two-legged beggars clung to Sally’s 
blue skirt. When William would have picked 
them off, she stopped him. “What is the use? 
Til only gather more.” For every grass, every 
weed, was freighted with the harvest which it 
was impelled to fling abroad. Shining little seeds 
stored in all manner of dainty pouches and bas- 
kets were only waiting transportation. From 
bursting milkweed pods sailed tiny balloons. 
Tall thistles stood with rakish gray dishevelled 
hair. 

Sally and William did not find much to say to 
each other, but the world seemed a glad place. 
They sat down on a sunny stone wall to watch 
the squirrels at work in a group of shagbarks. 
They, too, were harvesting. They ran up the 
tattered gray bark, up into the crown of rusty 
leaves and brought down the plump nuts and 
carried them off to secret hoards. In the sun- 
shine the air was warm and mellow. In the 
shade, or when at moments the breeze quickened. 
Jack Frost indicated his dancing presence close 


278 AN INTERRUPTED HON ET MOON 


at hand, gave them slight, saucy tweaks to remind 
them of him. The two figures on the crumbling 
wall sat close together, silent for a time. 

Then William’s hand crept gently over and 
lifted Sally’s hand from her lap and held it in 
a warm, close clasp. Dreamily happy, they sat 
and watched the golden sparkle of the autumnal 
world. Maple leaves, scarlet and gold and linger- 
ing jade, drifted down about them and flecked 
the stone wall with lovely color. At last Wil- 
liam’s gaze made Sally spring from the stone wall. 

“Come, let’s go on.” 

“Why, there’s the old Frenchman’s cabin,” 
Sally exclaimed. “I’d forgotten all about him. 
I haven’t been out as far as this for a great while.” 

“Who is the old Frenchman .? ” 

“He’s a recluse. He built this cabin for himself 
years ago, far away from anybody else, and there 
he lives all alone. There was a wife once, I 
believe, but she died before I knew anything 
about him. He’s a great mystery, you know. 
People have never been able to find out what 
brought him to this country, to this lonely place, 
what made him adopt this singular life of solitude. 
He’s always cheerful. He has a passion for 
flowers. In the summertime his little yard over- 
flows with them. Some choice things, too. You’d 
be surprised.” 

The cabin did not suggest unhappy withdrawal 
from the world. It looked snug and pleasant 
perched on a ledge of hillside, with a fine wooded 


IN THE FIELDS 


279 


slope rising behind it. Its low roof was a ruddy 
red. Its clapboarded sides were unpainted, except 
by the artist weather, who had turned them to a 
deep-toned gray. Bunches of red peppers, of 
golden seed corn, hung against the gray boards 
under the deep eaves. The one window of many 
little panes was banked with plants, geraniums 
and fuchias and pink oxalis, in tin cans and rough 
boxes. 

Sally and William looked at the cabin through 
a long vista of bean-pqles, their slender tops 
brought together and tied artistically with grape- 
vine stems. The bean vines were sere now and 
rustled emptily in the breeze. In summer, when 
the scarlet and white runners waved dainty ban- 
ners as they climbed up and up, the approach to 
the Frenchman’s house was beautiful. 

“In the summer he brings vegetables into 
Manorton and sells them from door to door,” 
Sally explained. “We often buy from him. I 
always like to have Pierre come. He’s so 
cheery and pleasant. He always seems to me the 
happiest person I know. You wouldn’t think he 
could be, would you, old and in a foreign land 
all alone ? ” 

“Very creditable of him,, certainly.” William 
was watching her animated face with open pleasure. 

Perhaps the recluse divined human compan- 
ionship drawing near. He opened his door and 
stood on its threshold peering down at them 
through the bean arbor, a smile on his plain old 


28 o an interrupted HONEYMOON 

face. It was rugged and furrowed, framed in 
grizzly locks, his blue eyes looking forth as 
simply and frankly as a child’s. A wise looking 
black poodle stood beside him. 

“Let’s go in and see him for a few minutes. 
He’ll be pleased.” 

Silently acquiescent, William pushed open the 
gate. 

“We won’t be able to have much conversation 
with him. His English is so broken that it’s hard 
to understand. Whatever you say to him he nods 
and smiles, but I’m sure it doesn’t mean much 
to him.” 

“Good afternoon, Pierre.” 

“Bon jour, mademoiselle, monsieur.” Old 
Pierre gave them affable welcome. He pushed 
open his door with a gesture of invitation. 

“No, thank you, Pierre. We won’t go in 
to-day, but I wanted Mr. Van Besten to see what 
a pleasant little place you have. May I show 
him your summer house ” 

“But yes, mademoiselle.” 

He led through another vista of bean arbor at 
the side of the house, a few steps to the summit of 
a stony knoll. Here he had built a summer 
house roofed over, the four sides open. A rustic 
bench ran around it. A rustic table stood in the 
middle. Everything within the rustic place was 
trim and betokened thrift. Old Pierre’s domain 
was like a bit of peasant France transplanted to 
the State of New York. 


IN THE FIELDS 


281 

“It is belle, n’est ce pas ?” The old Frenchman 
waved his hands enthusiastically toward his fair, 
wide prospect. From the summer house one 
looked far over hill and field and clearing, through 
which meandered the Manorton creek. Nestled 
among treetops that looked from here thicker than 
they were in reality, emerged the Manorton roofs, 
the church spire. They saw smoke rising from 
the tall chimneys of the paper mill. 

“This is Pierre’s dining-room when the weather 
is warm enough. He likes .the companionship 
of seeing the houses.” 

“Pretty cold comfort, though, I should think.” 
William looked at Pierre’s broad, serene face with 
interested curiosity. “Pretty lonely isn’t it some- 
times .? ” 

“Plait-il?” 

“Mr. Van Besten thinks you must be very 
lonely, Pierre ” 

He gave them a wise smile, then bent over and 
patted his poodle. “I have Memot here and my 
flowers, enough always to eat, plenty Wood to 
burn. It suffices.” 

William felt something like envy of this weather- 
beaten old man. “Then you’re happy?” 

“ Happiness ? But that is for the young, mon- 
sieur. It passes, that. For me I am content. You 
regard still what has ahead, monsieur. But me, 
I have no future. The past that is what the old re- 
gard. When you are an old man like me, monsieur, 
you too will live chiefly on your memories.” 


282 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


“You are a philosopher, Pierre. Ready, 
Sally?” 

“Attendez one minute.” Pierre hastily gath- 
ered the few belated chrysanthemums that still 
bloomed on the ragged-leaved bushes. The 
small ruddy buttons of velvety maroon defied 
the frost from the sunny shelter of the wall. With 
a foreign obesiance, Pierre held out the bouquet 
to Sally. 

“Thank you, Pierre. They’re lovely. I’ll put 
them in water as soon as I get home and enjoy 
them for a long time.” 

The old man’s blue eyes rested admiringly upon 
Sally, her bright hair loosened by the breezy 
walk that had deepened her color. He stood 
peering through the beanpoles after her and Wil- 
liam, as long as he could see them, a round- 
shouldered, sturdy figure of fortitude. 

The birds and the squirrels had gone to bed. 

The frolicsome mood that belonged to sunshine 
and activity yielded as the shadows lengthened to 
one more pensive, though still happy and serene. 
They went on and on, talking scarcely at all. 
Past and future had lost significance. The pres- 
ent was all — the present of two in happy isolation, 
of fellowship in the peaceful, unexacting fields. 

Sally stopped suddenly. “William, we must 
have come a long way.” 

“Are you tired ? ” 

“No, but then — there’s all the way back, you 
know.” 


IN THE FIELDS 


283 


‘‘Yes, there’s all the way back.” His voice 
exulted in the distance. They turned. For a 
long time they went dreamily hand in hand. 
Then, with a gesture of swift uncontrollable 
desire, William drew her closer. Though at 
first she seemed to hold off, there was no real 
resistance. He knew there was none. With 
his arm around her, shoulder to shoulder, her 
step falling in with his, they went home through 
the gloaming. 


CHAPTER XX 


A GREAT CATASTROPHE 

T he dream was timeless, spaceless, a happy 
obsession. Then, after the fashion of dreams, 
it vanished. They halted suddenly, moved by a 
common impulse. 

“What do you suppose that is?” Sally de- 
manded, in a frightened way. For clouds of 
tawny smoke lay over Manorton. As they drew 
near, they heard the shrill bell of the Manorton 
fire engine — the cries of men and boys. 

“William, that smoke’s near us. You don’t 
suppose it’s our house ? ” 

“The hotel maybe!” William said excitedly. 
They hurried on. The thickening shadows wrap- 
ped them with foreboding. Dread settled down 
upon Sally’s spirit. She had been very happy 
that afternoon. Now life grew difficult again. 
She felt unspeakably oppressed, almost as though 
she were going to be punished because she had 
been so unjustifiably happy. 

All Manorton seemed to be pressing through 
the shadowy street. Someone laid convulsively 
284 


A GREAT CATASTROPHE 285 

hold on Sally. “Why, Sally Haselton, is that 
you } Yes, it’s your house. They’re doing all 
they can to save it.” 

“What started the fire?” William asked. 

“Nobody knows.” 

“Oh, I hope Annie and Joe are all right!” 
Sally rushed on impetuously, pushing past others 
on their way to the fire. The smoke grew denser, 
more acrid. A flare of flame pointed the way 
ominously. The Haselton gate stood open. The 
yard was filled with people huddled in groups, 
speaking in suppressed, awed tones as they 
watched the efforts of the village firemen. In the 
strange, fantastic light, compounded of blaze 
and smoke and gathering night, spectral forms 
moved about grotesquely up on the roof. 

“What are they doing up there?” William 
asked. 

“Flinging down wet quilts and blankets. They 
think they can save the front part of the house,” 
someone told him. 

“Where’s Annie? Where’s Mrs. Haselton? 
Can’t somebody tell me ? ” Sally demanded, in 
anguish of anxiety. 

“There she is, over yonder. Under the locust 
tree.” William guided her across the yard. 

Annie scarcely heeded them when they joined 
her. Pale and intense, she stood watching the 
destruction of the home to which Joe Haselton 
had brought her when they were married. Her 
expression of strong absorption did not change. 


286 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


“I can't make Joe come away," she said drearily. 

“Where’s little Joe ’’ Sally asked. 

“He’s all right. Millie’s looking after him.’’ 

“How did it happen, Annie?" William asked. 

Annie was straining her eyes to distinguish Joe 
among the firemen. “I don’t know. I think it 
must have been that flue that Joe would insist 
on putting in a little while ago to heat the spare 
room. Little Joe and I were over at Mrs. Lan- 
son’s most of the afternoon. Soon after we got 
home I heard a queer kind of sound, sort of a 
rumble, but I couldn’t find out where it came 
from. I looked everywhere. I thought perhaps 
we were going to have an earthquake shock. It 
was so queer that I thought I’d better go over to 
the mill and tell Joe. Then I was afraid that was 
foolish, so I waited. Then, all of a sudden, I 
smelt smoke, and there it was bursting out of the 
hall wall and in the sitting-room in half a dozen 
places at once. I just grabbed little Joe and ran 
out and gave the alarm. William, can’t you 
persuade Joe to come away ? He’s so reckless 
and excited. I’m sure he’ll get hurt." 

“I’ll see what I can do, Annie." William 
looked down into her troubled eyes with strong, 
kind sympathy. 

Was the fine old homestead destined to go up 
in smoke ? An extraordinary realization of the 
transitoriness of everything smote Sally like a 
blow. She had never felt anything like it 
before. Hitherto home had seemed as fixed 


A GREAT CATASTROPHE 287 


as the soil on which it had stood so long. The 
Haselton house had been the first substantial 
house built in Manorton. The entire community 
would mourn if the landmark perished. The 
village fire department worked heroically, Joe 
Haselton with the others. 

“Oh, I wish he’d let the old house burn!” 
Annie spoke helplessly, longingly. “ But he won’t. 
He will keep on trying to save something else. 
If I had the strength of a man Td make him 
come,” she said savagely. Sally did not heed. 

Treasures of childhood and girlhood — dear, 
unreplaceable trifles of moment — flitted in swift 
succession across her mind. She started forward, 
but William laid a restraining hand on her arm. 
“What are you going to do ? ” 

“See, there’s Joe!” Annie cried out. They 
saw him emerge from the smoke enveloped porch 
carrying something large and square. “That 
must be your mother’s picture. I wish he’d let 
it burn and come away.” 

“Let me go, William,” Sally cried. “If Joe 
can get in, I can. I must get up to my room for 
a minute.” 

“You can’t do it,” William said decidedly. 
“What do you want.?* I’ll get it for you if it is 
possible.” 

“No, I must go myself, William. Stop holding 
me,” she cried, imperatively. But William’s hold 
only grew the firmer. 

“ Be sensible, Sally. The house is full of 


288 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


smoke. The walls may fall in any moment. I 
won’t have you attempt it.” 

Sparkling with wrath, she gave him a rebellious 
glance. Her small fingers sought in vain to pull 
away his hand. Then she desisted. It was too 
ignominious to struggle against the masterful hold. 

“Please let go of me, William. I’m sure I 
could get in just for a minute. You’ve no business 
to hold me as though I were a child.” 

He paid no attention to her words. His grasp 
slipped from her arm, clasped both her reluctant 
hands. “Listen, Sally. You can do nothing. 
A woman would be only in the way yonder. Dis- 
tract the men. Now I may be able to help — ^may 
save something, or look after Joe. But I can’t 
go as long as I’m afraid you’ll do something rash. 
I won’t have you endangering yourself if I have 
to stand here and hold you until that fire burns 
out. Won’t you be sensible ? Let me go and 
help. Don’t hold me in this useless way.” 

“I’m not holding you,” she cried indignantly. 
“I wish you would go.” 

“Yes, but I can’t go until you promise me that 
you won’t try to get into the house. Promise me, 
Sally, and then I can go.” 

Their wills clashed — ^her’s defiant, impetuous, 
unstable, his as strong and unswerving as his 
clasp on her hands. Their wills had clashed 
before now, but this time there was a difference. 
That seemed a long moment while they looked 
at each other. They forgot to remember other 


A GREAT CATASTROPHE 289 

people’s eyes, though indeed curiosity had suffi- 
cient other food that night, and was not concerned 
with them. 

“I — I promise,” Sally said faintly. 

With a keen, bright look, William dropped her 
hands and started toward the house. But now 
it was Sally’s turn to catch and hold fast. “Wait, 
William. If it isn’t safe for me it isn’t safe for 
you either. Don’t try to get in the house. If 
things must burn, they must.” 

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be careful.” She 
looked up quickly at his tone. “See, the men are 
still bringing things out. There’s Joe again. 
I must go help him.” He was off. Sally stood 
desolately beside Annie under the locust tree. 
Mr. Allen Mackenzie came and stood near her, 
as though desiring to prop her courage by his 
friendly presence. 

“I’m glad your father didn’t live to see this,” 
he said, in a broken, awed sort of way. “He 
loved every stick and stone of the old place.” 

“Splendid fellows!” Mrs. Lanson apostrophized 
the firemen. “They’re doing everything that’s 
possible. They’ll save it yet, Mrs. Haselton, 
Sally.” Her eyes were full of tears. She was 
pale with sympathy. She tried to cheer and 
encourage her friends. 

“I wish they’d let it burn if it wants to, and 
make Joe Haselton come away.” Annie was 
growing bitter in her distress. 

The dim figures ceased to go and come with 


290 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

loads from the house. The task had grown too 
dangerous. A huddle of furniture stood on the 
lawn. Books and bricabrac were flung down 
pell-mell. The parlor mantel vases and Annie’s 
rolling pin lay together on the sitting-room sofa. 
Clothing, torn hastily from the clothes-presses, 
lay in heaps across chairs. There seemed some- 
thing shockingly indecent in this sudden dragging 
forth of the plenishings of the staid old house. 
The flames were being subdued, but the south 
side of the house, the living-room, the delightful 
old kitchen, that had been loved of generation 
after generation of Haseltons, were blackened 
ruins. Grimy as a collier, his eyes bloodshot with 
smoke and excitement, his clothes and his hands 
singed, Joe Haselton worked recklessly to save 
his household treasures. In vain the others, 
brave fellows, too, besought him to come away. 
“Come on, Joe, it’s foolhardy to stay longer,” 
they adjured him, but Joe would not be restrained. 
A crazy kind of exultation possessed him as he 
fought for his possessions. William tried to get 
him away. “Joe, this isn’t right. You ought 
to remember Annie. You’re terrifying her to 
death by keeping this up. Out with you, man! 
Let Annie know you’re safe.” 

The sense of the words scarcely reached Joe’s 
excited mind. “Yes, yes. I’ll come in a minute. 
There’s one more thing upstairs I’m bound to 
have.” He darted through the reek of smoke in 
which William, lingering on the threshold, felt 


A GREAT CATASTROPHE 


291 


half stifled. As Joe came staggering downstairs 
with loaded arms, the hall ceiling crashed down, 
bearing with it the heavy hall chandelier. The 
smoking plaster fell on William. Somewhere 
under it, under the broken chandelier, lay Joe. 
Half dazed in the intolerable atmosphere, William 
groped blindly. Then he caught hold of uncon- 
scious Joe, succeeded in extricating him, and pulled 
him toward the door. With a great thankfulness 
he felt the night air reaching his tortured lungs; 
then, spent and scorched, he fell into the arms 
outstretched to seize him and Joe. The flames 
were dying now, the smoke drifting away. 
People were hurrying home. 

“Is that all there’s going to be.?” asked little 
Joe, with a sigh of disappointment that the 
excitement should end. 

Sitting on Millie Stetson’s lap in a side window, 
he had been an engrossed spectator of the tragedy 
in his home. The house still stood, but it was 
greatly damaged. 

The Haselton family took refuge with Millie 
and Morris Stepson. Every home in Manorton 
was open to them. The sudden catastrophe that 
had befallen them called out quick, warm expres- 
sion of sympathy and friendship from the reticent 
village folks. Joe Haselton, still unconscious, 
had been put to bed in the spare room of the 
Thompson house. His burns were not severe, 
but he had received a heavy blow upon his head; 
one arm was broken. 


292 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

The doctor did all he could and went away. He 
had tried to reassure palid Mrs. Has^lton, but 
serious misgiving pierced through his well-meant 
noncommittal phrases. 

Not knowing and not caring whether or not the 
fire was still raging, Annie Haselton knelt beside 
her husband’s bed, her attention concentrated 
upon him, her soul in her anxious eyes. Sally 
sat over by the window. The hours when she 
and William had roamed the fields, like care-free 
rollicking children, when she had walked close 
beside him, within his arm, both under a mystical 
spell that held them silent and content, seemed far 
back in time. She had been happy then. Now 
her heart felt very heavy. Was she going to lose 
Joe — good, kind, hard-working Joe, whose brother- 
ly loyalty and concern for her she now reproached 
herself for never half appreciating .? It could not 
be. It must not. “Spare him, God,” Sally’s 
heart prayed. The long, inert figure moved 
slightly. A fluttering breath like a sigh caught 
Annie’s ear and Sally’s. Very slowly Joseph 
Haselton came back to consciousness and opened 
eyes still bloodshot from smoke and flame. Slowly, 
very slowly, recollection came to him. “Is the 
house gone ? ” he gasped. 

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Annie spoke 
impetuously. She seemed curiously changed from 
her usual easy-going self as she clasped Joe in 
her arms. “Don’t bother about the house, dear. 
What’s the house to me compared to you ? 


A GREAT CATASTROPHE 


293 


Home’s anywhere I can have you and little Joe.” 
She spoke with passion. Sally had never known 
that her matter-of-fact brother Joe could wear 
such an expression as now came to him as he 
looked up at his wife. Heart and soul made his 
eyes luminous. He and Annie understood each 
other. They had no need of words. 

Presently Joe said weakly, “It’s going to 
impoverish us. Make things mighty hard for 
you, I’m afraid.” 

Annie kissed the foreboding words away from 
his lips. “We’re young and strong. We can 
economize. We can work. I don’t care if we 
are poor for awhile. I don’t care.” She smiled 
at him, quivering with love and courage. 

“Dear girl!” Joe tried to lift himself toward 
her, but he was still too weak. Instantly, her 
lashes still wet with tears of tenderness, 
Annie became the nurse, maternal, authoritative. 
“Don’t stir, Joe. You mustn’t. You mustn’t 
exert yourself at all.” Her smiling lips trembled. 
Her tender voice quivered, then she flung herself 
upon him. “Oh, Joe, I’m so glad I’ve got 
you still!” She laughed brokenly. “You great 
big bad boy! How you frightened me! Bad 
boy!” 

Sally knew that she was far from the conscious- 
ness of husband and wife. She felt drearily 
remote, alone, forgotten. She felt like an eaves- 
dropper. As Annie bent over Joe again, her 
arm across his breast, Sally knew that she had no 


294 an interrupted HONEYMOON 

right to be there, a spectator of the intimate tender 
moment. Very quietly she left the room. Down- 
stairs in Millie’s sitting-room an anxious group 
were awaiting a report from the sick room. They 
were trying to be cheerful and to talk hopefully, 
but in spite of themselves they spoke in subdued 
tones, their ears alert for any sound from upstairs. 
William was there, waiting to see Sally again. 
Mr. Allen Mackenzie sat in the armchair which 
had become his home seat at Millie’s hearth. He 
felt that he was among his friends, sharing their 
sorrow. Although he had lost Harlan Morgan, 
life was less desolate than it had promised to be. 
Millie’s young brothers, with elbows leaning on 
the table, a pretence of school-books before them, 
listened delightedly to the interesting converse 
of their elders. 

Millie and Morris were indefatigable in their 
efforts to make their guests comfortable, to offer 
them all the cheer in their power. The atmosphere 
was vibrant with warm good-will. Frequently 
Millie was called out to the parlor to see someone 
who had come to inquire after Mr. Haselton, to 
express sympathy, to proffer help. The Haseltons 
stood high in the village esteem. Their friends 
gathered to them in their trouble, with a warm- 
hearted wish of service. 

Sally came quietly into the sitting-room. ‘^How 
is he, Sally ” Millie’s manner showed that she 
felt timorous of putting the question. 

‘T think he’s better. He’s come to himself. 


A GREAT CATASTROPHE 


295 


He seems perfectly clear-minded now/’ Sally 
answered. 

“ That’s good,” Allen Mackenzie ejaculated, with 
a nod indicating relief. ‘T’m glad to hear that.” 

To William, unnoticed by her, Sally conveyed 
an odd effect of absentmindedness. She was still 
dominated by the scene upstairs from which she 
had come. She could not detach her mind from 
the dimly lighted bed-chamber where Joseph, 
wan and helpless, lay so near the verge of the 
mysteries, with Annie rekindling life within him 
by her great enveloping love. Sally had seen how 
adequate each was to the other’s need, requiring no 
one else to satisfy heart hunger. Didn’t she 
love Joe as well as Annie did An aching sense 
of being left out still lay on their sister’s spirit. 

With an impulse of sympathy Millie came up 
and put an arm around her friend. “Don’t 
stand there. You look so tired. Won’t you go 
and he down for a little while \ Do, Sally. The 
blue room is all ready for you. Little Joe’s in 
bed there now. I’m going to have the divan in 
the spare room made up for Mrs. Haselton. I 
know she won’t leave Mr. Haselton, but perhaps 
she’ll let some of us spell her at the watching. 
Do lie down, won’t you ? ” 

Sally shook her head decidedly. “Thank you, 
Millie. You’re as kind and thoughtful as you 
can be, but I can’t possibly lie down now.” 

“The doctor said he’d look in again in an hour 
or so.” 


296 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“I know.” Without regarding the others, in, 
a lifeless kind of way Sally went out of the room. 
They heard the front door softly open and close. 
William Van Besten went quickly after her, 
overtook her at the gate. “Where are you going, 
Sally ? ” As he spoke he laid about her a warm 
cape which he had caught up from Millie’s hat 
rack. The night air was chill. The stars shone 
frostily clear. His care for her soothed the great 
loneliness in her heart. She was glad that the 
night concealed the tears that sprang to her eyes. 
She could not answer him until she had waited 
an instant to steady her voice. 

“ I was only going to see if it was all really true,” 
she said, in a low unsteady voice. “It seems as 
though it must be just a horrible dream. Such alittle 

while ago we felt so happy and safe — and now ” 

Her voice trembled. “I’m so anxious about Joe.” 
William’s silence was full of sympathy. 

“Joe’s a vigorous fellow,” he said presently, 
“and he loves his life. The doctor will pull him 
through, never fear.” William pushed open the 
Haselton gate and they entered the deserted yard. 
The ground, softened by recent rains, not yet 
stiffened by severe frost, was a slough from the 
trampling of many feet. The trim flower beds 
and the box borders which Joe Haselton delighted 
in keeping trim, were ruined. Ghostly shapes 
of furniture showed vaguely under the trees. 
The front door, wide open upon a ruined and 
blackened interior, gave an eflFect of unspeakable 


A GREAT CATASTROPHE 


297 


4esolation. They stood on the path looking up 
at it. She moved close to William, feeling it a 
comfort to have him beside her, realizing that, 
after all, she could not have endured to stand 
shudderingly alone in the despoiled yard. Pres- 
ently she went slowly upon the porch and glanced 
within the house. William drew her gently back. 
‘‘I wouldn’t do that; it’s hardly safe.” 

‘‘I always supposed that Annie had a great 
deal of pride in and affection for this place.” 
Sally spoke almost resentfully. 

‘‘Hasn’t she?” 

“She told Joe just now that she didn’t care 
whether it was burned or not. She said that the 
only home she cared about was any place where 
she and Joe and the baby were together.” 

There was a silence. 

“That’s a pretty fine way for Annie to feel,” 
William said presently. “You love this place 
very much, don’t you, Sally ? ” 

“I never thought before whether I did or not.” 
She spoke drearily. “I was born here. My 
whole life has been passed here. I never thought 
of anything happening to the home. To see it 
in ruins makes me feel so helpless, so denuded.” 
She could not go on. 

“ But it isn’t gone,” he said, cheerfully. “There’s 
a lot of the old house left. It can be patched up, 
rebuilt.” 

She glanced up at him with a pitiful appeal for 
sympathy. “The old kitchen’s utterly gone. To 


298 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

think of all the good times we’ve had there. And 
the sitting-room’s gone. William, I shall always 
see it just as it was when you and I started out 
this afternoon. The fire was low on the hearth. 
I thought of putting on another stick. I’m glad 
now I didn’t. I can just see Grandfather Hasel- 
ton’s picture staring down from over the sofa. 
I wonder if it was saved ? How I am going to 
miss our old things, the things I’ve been used to 
seeing all my life.” Her voice shook. 

William longed to comfort. As they stood 
together in the brooding twilight, he laid his arms 
gently about her and drew her close. Sally did 
not resist. Nor did she resist when he drew her 
down with him into a deep old sofa, that turned 
out of doors to-night, had stood in the Hasel- 
ton parlor for thirty years or more. To-night it 
stood on the frost encrusted lawn, and leaned 
against a locust tree. 

William and Sally sank down into its cushioned 
depths. His arms were still enfolding her. Her 
head lay restfully on his shoulder. She sighed 
softly, but she never moved when William’s warm 
breath came closer, closer, and his lips sought 
her brow. 

He uttered short, disconnected, endearing words 
of comfort, of petting, in a low, moved whisper. 
Sally listened. 


CHAPTER XXI 
sally's revolt 

S ALLY lay on the divan in Millie's spare room, 
her wakeful eyes resting on the shaded night 
lamp. Annie had been persuaded to leave her 
husband for a few hours to go to bed in another 
room. Joseph lay sound asleep in the spare- 
room bed. Sleep, the doctor said, was the best 
possible thing for him. He was not to be roused 
from it even for his medicine. It was some 
comfort to see his wan face relaxed, to feel that 
for a little while he was untroubled, unsuffering. 

His sister would have preferred more active 
tending than this passive watching, something 
to hold her from thought. As she lay there in 
the silent room life grew ominous and mysterious. 
In the black night toward dawn she wrestled with 
miseries new to her. She felt that after twenty- 
eight easy going years she was just beginning to 
know something of life. Could a human being 
withstand such compulsions ? Humbly, with tears 
swelling up from her heart, Sally promised herself 
never to judge anyone again. For she had 
299 


300 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


learned that only the ignorant because untempted, 
may point fingers of scorn. To-morrow morning 
would soon be here when she would see William 
again. She looked forward to the moment with 
both dread and longing. For she was self- 
convicted of falling away from her own standard 
of conduct, and it seemed to her that she must 
have fallen in William’s esteem. What strange 
new freedom she had shown him out in the fields 
on that twilight walk within his arm, last night 
when she had clung to him in the ruined garden. 
She groaned at the review, swift in self-condemna- 
tion. The excitement of the fire had unnerved 
her. Surely he would understand that it was 
only because of her excited state that she had 
acted as she had done. 

It was strange that she did not feel more en- 
grossed by anxiety for Joe — by the disaster to 
the dear old home. All that seemed to form a 
murky background for her preoccupation. 

Whither had she and William been drifting of 
late ? She felt impelled to cast anchor, to take her 
bearings before going farther. For in spite of 
certain tugging at her heart, Sally still believed 
that she and William must not be more than 
friends. The other woman was still the insuper- 
able obstacle to another course. But the wide- 
awake girl on the divan looked back with a kind 
of wonder at the girl who had argued so confidently 
that day at the Deep Hole. That Sally had 
believed that she knew a great deal about life in 


SALLrS REVOLT 


301 


general and had felt entirely competent to form- 
ulate a high and practical standard of conduct 
and then adhere to it. 

But at the moment abstract mortality was 
less absorbing than the question how much had 
William cared for the woman in Kirton ? The 
least things that she knew about her Sally gathered 
up for review. She was young, she was pretty. 
She was very pretty. Sally called up before her 
mental vision the bright laughing face she had seen 
once. She well remembered the young woman 
who she had passed driving with William while she 
herself, in Perry Herton’s mail-wagon, was un- 
noticed by either. William’s friend had been 
merry that day. Even now Sally felt again the 
stab of discomfort with which she had observed 
a familiarity between them, unanalyzable, yet 
unmistakable. When had it begun ? How long 
had it lasted ? Sally moved restlessly back and 
forth on the divan. Impossible to doubt from 
what William had said that day at the Deep Hole, 
that he owed some kind of allegiance to that 
other. She had looked merry and confident that 
day. But how tragically her voice had rung 
out in William’s house that later day. 
The sound of her wild sobbing came back 
to Sally’s ears. How horrible it had been, the 
sudden, unlooked-for invasion of tragedy. How 
it had spoiled everything. Yes, she and William 
had known some worthwhile moments since then, 
but still even they had been ghost-haunted. 


302 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Sally cast reproaches at herself for seeking to 
forget what she should have tried to remember. 

Far back in the years lay a village tragedy 
which, although it had occurred when she was a 
little girl, she would never forget. The girl who 
had figured in it was a worn-middle-aged woman 
now. She still lived in Manorton. On Sunday 
she went to church. She was always soberly 
dressed. There seemed deliberate purpose in her 
eschewing of all feminine adornment. Her furtive 
manner said, “ Please don’t notice me.” She 
slipped into a far back pew and as soon as the 
service was over hurried away. Few greeted her. 
She seemed to shun greetings, any recognition. 
The man who had been responsible for her 
disgraced life also lived in Manorton. He had 
gone away for a year or two at the time of the 
scandal, but he had come back. He had married 
a Manorton girl. They were respectable, well- 
to-do people. No one shunned him. People 
sometimes whispered of the unpleasant past, dim 
in the background, but in their intercourse with 
him it was as though it had not been. 

In the atmosphere in which Sally Haselton had 
been brought up it was impossible for a girl to 
ask questions on such a matter. She had never 
fully understood Edna Miller’s case. But she 
had pitied Edna when, with all her bright youth 
quenched, she had emerged from seclusion into 
the village sight again. Sally rarely spoke of her 
sentiment toward the man, but she never could 


SALLrS REVOLT 


303 


bring herself to regard him with more than clod 
tolerance. She could never like him or help 
remembering when she saw his good-humored 
countenance, the comfortable, well-satisfied air 
of himself and his wife and his children. She 
had vowed to herself never to tolerate the generally 
accepted social attitude which ostracised a woman 
and exonerated a man for the same fault. Prin- 
ciple was at stake. Had she been true to principle ? 

Again and again in the unescapable isolation 
of the night watches she tried to shove humiliating 
recollection from her and it stole back like a 
tricky, malicious elf to torment her. Even in 
the daytime it had been in vain that she had 
sewed as though her task were one of life and 
death. Whatever she did a corroding sense of 
discomfiture persisted. 

Once she had heard a lecture on Alfred de Mus- 
set, and the portrayal of the passionate French 
lover had been a revelation to her, although she 
had not fully understood it. Yet it had deeply 
interested her. On ne hadine pas avec V amour V 
Alfred de Musset, in his passion-driven manhood, 
as well as in his play, had proved the truth of the 
keen French adage. Was that what she, too, in 
her ignorance had been trying to do — to play with 
love ? To control the power that keeps alive 
the whole great world, to think that she could 
twist and turn that in her weak woman’s hands .? 
What a fool she had been ! The astounding depths 
of her own ignorance! Sally groaned in spirit. 


304 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 


Then, for her comfort, she strove to take heart 
of grace and to put the irretrievable behind her, 
and to summon resolution for a different proced- 
ure. But she could not help looking forward with 
great sinking of heart to William’s reappearance. 
She felt utterly at sea as to how to receive him. 
Her old glad confidence in her power of self- 
direction had left her, leaving her singularly 
helpless. In spirit she held long subtle conversa- 
tions with him, explaining again her own impreg- 
nable position, convincing him, reducing him to 
silence. Then out of the ashes of humiliation 
twinkled faint sparks of rehabilitating triumph. 
She so longed to be rehabilitated in her own eyes. 
This self-despite was an altogether new sensation, 
the bitterest she had ever known. Her very soul 
asked for comforting reassurance. 

William, coming over from the hotel at an 
early hour, met Annie in the hall. 

“How’s Joe this morning?” he asked. 

Annie sighed in a tired way. “He’s very weak 
and discouraged but the doctor says he’s better 
than he thought he’d find him.” 

Annie’s tone betrayed some discouragement. 
Her pretty face was wan. Suffering had touched 
her, too, but she smiled pluckily. “Go up and 
speak to him for a minute, won’t you, William ? ” 

But William took her hand detainingly and 
paused at the foot of the stairs. “See here, Annie, 
you mustn’t let him worry. If there’s anything I 
can do, now or later, call on me. Promise me you 


SALLrS REVOLT 


305 


won’t hesitate ? ” To William’s dismay, Annie, 
spent and anxious, fell into swift tears in her 
effort to thank him. With an odd throwing olf 
of his habitual formality, surprising to both of 
them, William laid his arm about her shoulders 
and patted her soothingly. 

“Poor girl, you’re completely tired out!” 

Mrs. Haselton steadied herself with a sparkling 
glance. “William, do you know, I think you’re 
dreadfully afraid that people may find out what 
a dear, good, kind fellow you are.” 

“Nonsense!” said William Van Besten, and 
actually flushed under her grateful look. He 
fairly ran away from it up to the sick-room. 

“How are you, Joe? You look much more 
alive than when I saw you last.” William went 
up to Joe Haselton’s bed and gave the hand 
extended him a stout clasp. He meant his matter- 
of-fact manner to cloak his realization of the 
peril from which the other had only just emerged. 
Joe must not be agitated, 

“Yes, I’m getting along,” Joe said feebly. 

“If he only wouldn’t worry about things, he’d 
get well quicker,” his wife said. 

Joe moved restlessly about his bed. “Gad, it 
does fret a man to lie helpless as a log when he 
knows that he ought to be up and doing! There’s 
no use fussing. Well, William, how’s business ? ” 
“ See here, Joe, what are you worrying about ? 
Your mill is all right. The men can keep it going 
until you’re about again. They’re good fellows. 


3o6 an interrupted HONEYMOON 

You can trust them to do their best for you.’’ 

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s the house. How in 
thunder am I going to raise the wind to rebuild ? ” 

“Wasn’t it insured } ” 

“No. More fool I ! The mill is. I was always 
worrying about fire over there. On account of 
the men, you know. I’ve given positive orders 
that no one is to smoke on the place. It isn’t 
safe, of course, with all that inflammable stuff, 
straw and paper around. But they will do it. 
I’ve fired three men for carrying lighted pipes. 
But somehow I never thought it worth ’while to 
have the house insured. We’re careful people. 
There hasn’t been a house burned in Manorton 
in the memory of man. But I was an awful fool 
not to carry a moderate insurance, just the same.” 

“Joe, you really mustn’t talk so much,” Mrs. 
Haselton said anxiously. 

“All right, old lady, I won’t ” He tried to 

smile reassuringly. 

“Don’t let him, William,” Annie bade, as she 
left the room. 

“ If only I could pull out of this confounded bed 
and see just where I stand!” groaned Joe. 

“Don’t take the situation too seriously,” Wil- 
liam said cheerfully. “Don’t forget that your 
friends stand ready to help you. Call on me when- 
ever you like for whatever you need. I know 
you. You’re a first-rate investment.” 

The worry in Joe’s eyes lessened. 

“You’re weak still and that’s why you despond. 


SALLrS REVOLT 


307 

As soon as your strength comes back things will 
begin to look brighter. You’ll see.” 

“Annie tells me most of our furniture was 
saved.” Already Joe spoke with more cheer. 

“You’ll be back there, all caught up, in a few 
months,” William prophesied. 

Joe held out his hand. “William, you’ve done 
me lots of good. Now go along and find Sally.” 

He went to her confidently in a gladness of 
heart which no sympathy with other people’s 
woes could blight. Very present with him was 
the feeling of her warm palpitating body clasped 
in his arms, the delightful sense of her frank 
reliance on him. Almost he was inclined to bless 
the catastrophe which had scorched away mists 
of constraint. It seemed to him that in the chill 
autumnal night they had come very close together. 

“Good morning, William.” He felt her tone 
repellant. As he took her hand his manner 
changed, sobered. “Are you well? You look — 
tired.” His look begged explanation of the change 
that had come over her, but she gave none. 

“Yes, I’m quite well, thank you.” She was 
baffling, inscrutable. Her eyes, usually so straight- 
forward, refused to meet his. 

Perplexedly enough William perceived that 
they were at cross purposes. How could he come 
to her, thought Sally, smiling and cheerful, as 
though what had happened were of no moment ? 

She could say none of the things prepared for 
his hearing. They lay ready in her heart, a 


3o8 an interrupted HONEYMOON 

heavy load, but she knew her tongue could never 
utter them. Perhaps he would know something 
of what she felt without telling. Wistfully she 
longed for him to be understanding. She had 
none of her usual light, bright defiance. He felt 
the eflFort with which she talked, grew oppressed 
by the same burden. Then as they talked on in 
the dreary pretence of commonplace, she felt his 
subtle sympathy enveloping her. He too, had 
divinations. William did not understand her 
mood. How should he ? But since it was her 
mood, he sought to respect it. He would say 
nothing, do nothing, to augment her disquiet of 
spirit. Never mind what ailed her. The craving 
for explanation, for self-justification, left her in 
a measure under the influence of his tender look 
and tone. The tenderness was all there. She 
felt it in the commonplace discussion. Gradually 
she relaxed, her figure grew less tense. She 
leaned more easily against her cushioned chair, 
smiled more freely. Let her make him and her- 
self uncomfortable if she would. She was still 
Sally — dear, troublesome, necessary Sally. 

‘‘What is the matter, Sally I What’s wrong? ” 
he asked. Sally drew back from his gesture of 
approach. 

“Nothing. What should be the matter?” she 
smiled determinedly. “Unless Mrs. Allan’s blue 
silk dress is still haunting me. It’s hung like a 
pall over my spirits all day. You see, first she 
wanted it tucked, and then she didn’t want it 


SALirS REVOLT 


309 


tucked, and now that it’s all cut and fitted other- 
wise, she’s sure she wants it tucked. I’ve toiled 
and moiled over the dress until the silk and I 
are both pretty nearly worn out. So if I seem 
plunged in gloom you’ll know why.” She spoke 
brightly and lightly and insincerely. 

“You should have refused to do it.” William 
spoke with a masculine decision that somehow 
made Sally want to laugh. “There is no 
reason in the world why you should be the 
slave of a foolish old woman’s whimsies. Why 
do you submit to her ? ” 

“ Bread and butter consideration possibly. Oh, 
old Mrs. Allan isn’t any worse than lots of others 
after all. Every woman in the world is more or 
less unreasonable toward her dressmaker. You 
see, every woman nurses an ideal of herself at a 
possible best, the way she might look if fates and 
dressmakers did their very best for her. That’s 
the way she wants to look all the time and does 
only now and then. The chronic disappointment 
of falling short of that ideal, she usually visits on 
the dressmaker.” 

“That’s rather hard on the dressmaker.” He 
was so glad to have the gloom lifted. He watched 
her brightening face intently. His eyes were full 
of tenderness. It was so hard not to tell her 
again all that she had forbidden him to tell her. 
He longed for her more every day. He had 
learned that up to a certain point he might be 
loverly. She drew the line with feminine incon- 


^10 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON . 

sequence, but she made him observe it. When he 
encroached, her spirits took alarm, grew distant, 
elusive. 

“Fm afraid it will be some time before Fsee 
you again,’’ he said presently. ‘‘Fm going 
away to-morrow.” 

“Going away?” She was unconscious of the 
swift change in her face, though she felt the 
muscles grow rigid. William’s announcement 
was another stab in a sensitive spot. “Do you 
expect to be gone long ? ” She was glad to have 
her voice sound so cool and clear. 

“About three weeks, I suppose. It’s my annual 
business trip, you know. I’ve put it off this year 
later than I ever did before.” He looked at her 
intently. “It’s seemed more difficult than usual 
to get away. I haven’t felt a bit like going.” 
He tried in vain to read the expression of her 
downcast face. “I’ve put off going and drifted 
along from day to day because it’s been so much 
pleasanter to come down here and be with you 
than to do anything else.” 

It hurt him to feel her manner stiffen sensitively, 
as though to warn him that he must not say more. 

His puzzled scrutiny assailed her composure. 
She felt injured as though William were doing 
her a wrong in going away. In vain her mind 
realized the feeling as absurd. What business 
had she to feel that way ? Even husbands and 
wives, the most devoted, had to endure little 
separations and did so as a matter of course with 


SALLrS REVOLT 


311 

cheerful fortitude. Ah, but in the case of the 
happily married there was that element of cer- 
tainty which in her case was lacking. She 
recognized herself as utterly unreasonable. 

As William’s gaze continued to rest on her 
inquiringly, she knew that she must be looking 
rigid, unnatural. Did William think her behaving 
oddly ? He had become very quiet. 

The silence was not one of ease. Not long since 
those moments of nearness which neither could 
ever forget, and now again they were miles apart. 
How could such changes be ? Surely the gods 
made game of them. Sally leaned back in her 
corner of the sofa as though she were very tired. 
Her womanly pride had snapped and she no 
longer cared whether William perceived that she 
was unhappy. She felt no prompting to break 
the dreary pause. 

William rose. She felt that to nave him go 
like this would add the final drop to her cup of 
bitterness, but she did not stir from her listless 
position. He must go or stay as he would. All 
magnetic power to influence him seemed to have 
gone from her. With a great effort she gathered 
together the rags and tags of her self-respect to 
bid him good-bye with dignity. She rose out of 
courtesy, since William appeared to be going. 

But he did not go. Instead he stood there 
looking at her with strange upbraiding. She 
trembled under his look, recoiled before his onset 
as he came closer. Fiercely, almost as though he 


^12 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

could have found it in his heart to hurt her, William 
caught her in his arms. He paid no heed to her 
resistance as he pressed hard hot long kisses on her 
brow, her cheeks, her lips. He would not give 
over kissing her. At first it filled her with mad joy 
to know herself still able to dominate his self-con- 
trol. Then, resistance, anger, woke within her. 

“Let me go! Let me go!’’ 

“You are mine! You have no right to keep on 
denying,” he whispered hotly. 

“Let me go!” Her spirit was resisting him 
with all its might, felt his kisses, fierce, unmerciful. 

At last William yielded to her vehemence and 
let her tear herself from his arms. Shaken, 
exhausted, she leaned against the table, sobbing 
out in a heartbroken fashion. 

“Haven’t you a shred of respect left for me? 
Oh, I know it’s all my own fault! I know I’ve 
brought this on myself.” 

Anger blazed in her eyes with bitterest self-scorn. 

“Sally, dearest!” He laid his arm about her 
entreatingly, but she flung it off. 

“Oh, this is too much! Haven’t you degraded 
me enough in my own eyes ? ” 

“Don’t talk that way. Don’t trifle any longer 
with yourself and me. Come to me, Sally.” 

She flung back her dishevelled hair. “ Renounce 
all concern for right and wrong ? Do what I 
told you I’d rather die than do ? Condone ? Go 
about my own happiness as though nothing else 
mattered, and forget her unhappiness ? ” 


SALLrS REVOLT 


313 


Before his significant look, her eyes fell. “Love 
is stronger than reasonings. Don’t reason any 
more.” 

“She loved you too. She does still.” 

Until this moment he had never known Sally. 
All restraints she flung recklessly to the winds — 
pride, feminine reticence. “I don’t know whether 
I love you or hate you! I tell you I don’t know. 
You’ve made me suffer so.” She flung the 
accusation at him. She sobbed unrestrainedly. 
“Why didn’t you keep away and leave me to live 
my life out in my own way. I was doing it. I 
wasn’t so very happy, but it was well enough.” 

“I love you.” 

She did not appear to hear him. “Won’t you 
please go away now ? I can’t bear any more.” 

“I love you.” 

“Oh, William, please go. Won’t you go?” 
she said gaspingly. 

“I love you.” 

Did she waver under the reiteration ? Suddenly 
she flung herself upon him. He felt her arms 
close around his neck, her face warm against his. 
He felt her kisses passionate, abandoned. “ That’s 
the end.” 

Before he could stay her, she had fled from 
the room. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE OLD HAY BARN 


GREAT hay barn stood on a hillside about 



half a mile from Manorton. It belonged to 
a Haselton, an uncle of Joe’s and Sally’s. In 
old days they had often played there with other 
village children. Its dim, clean spaces were good 
to race across, its dusky recesses were made for 
hide and seek. The old barn was associated 
with a period of joyous rollicking. No livestock 
was kept there. In the summer it stood empty 
or nearly so, for as the years went by, it became a 
house of refuge for all manner of drifts and strays 
from the Haselton farm. Tucked about the edges 
of the wide floor stood a disabled cutter, an 
obsolete fanning machine, boxes, barrels, rusty 
leathers, nondescript bits of farm machinery. 
On either side were ample bags for hay and oats. 
Up in the lofts, constructed of loose crossbeams 
and planks, cornstalks were stored, and some- 
times rye straw waited there until Joe Haselton 
offered an acceptable price for it. 

The old barn was a pleasant place. It har- 


314 


THE OLD HAY BARN 


315 


bored a happy community of little live things. 
The unscrupulous wild folk of the field had 
appropriated it to their use. Red squirrels gar- 
nered their hoards under its roof. Gray fi^eld 
mice nested in the cornstalks. They moved about 
with gentle rustlings, attending to the wants of 
their families. Little shrill cries punctuated the 
prevailing silence. Communities of swallows 
dwelt up under the faraway old roof. Their mud 
homes were plastered up against the rafters, near 
the little square window at the gable and through 
which the sun, like a twinkling eye, looked down 
upon the peaceful, dim interior. 

Here one day, as several times before, came 
William and Sally to escape from the interrupting 
confusion of Millie Stetson’s overflowing house. 

It seemed to them that a fine impersonal peace 
reigned in the old barn set in the quiet fields. 
All the color tones were subdued, time-mellowed. 
Dull browns and grays predominated. The hay 
lay low in the mow, a soft, faintly fragrant mass 
of amber, blended with pale green. Pale bars of 
gold fell through the knot holes, slanted across 
the hay, across the floor. 

William rolled back the big rear door, which 
was high up from the sloping meadow on which 
the barn stood. The square opening framed a 
lovely prospect of fields and woods, level stretches, 
and uplands, all gradually warming into color. 
Here and there the sinuous Manorton Creek 
flashed a gleam of silver. Along the Creek the 


3i6 an interrupted HONEYMOON 

gold of the willow stems was strengthening. The 
tree buds were beginning to throw back their win- 
ter blankets. The tops of the maples looked ruddy. 
On all sides they saw the dawning flush of spring- 
time faint still yet exquisitely lovely in promise. 

Then the great sadness that sometimes comes 
with spring, fell upon William and Sally. The 
whole world seemed filled with tremulous desire, 
with a burden of vain longings, a painful groping 
toward self-expression. Sally forced back tears 
that sought to rise. She turned her head that 
William might not see the quiver of her lips and 
felt dismayed at her own unaccountable emotion. 
A bluebird flashed across the doorway like a bit 
of summer sky. It, too, was in quest. Quest 
of what? The grasses knew and the birds and 
the little gray mice in the rustling cornstalks. 
Happy wild things, going unquestioningly, single- 
heartedly, in obedience to the call. Enviable 
wild things, much wiser in their simplicity than 
men and women. Only men and women had so 
befogged their instincts with reasonings that they 
no longer recognized the call. They wandered 
unhappily along sidetracks of their own blazing, in- 
stead of going confidently along the great high road. 

Silence lay upon William and Sally but it was 
not oppressive. They rested in the sense of each 
other’s nearness, heedless of past and present. 
A breeze ran over last year’s grasses making them 
nod and dance, the merry grasses. With a look 
that caressed her, William noted her. She had 


THE OLD HAT BARN 


317 


lost her expression of calmly confident girlhood. 
Under stress of emotions new to her she was 
growing thin and tense. The change in a fine 
spiritual way was making her beautiful. If her 
contours were less rounded, her eyes less frank 
and glad, she was more lovely than she had ever 
been. Wistful humility instead of certainty 
peeped from her saddened eyes. 

Very curious to each was the feeling that he, 
that she, was constantly in a subtle, speechless 
way, questioning the other. They had known 
each other so long. Time had been when they 
confidently believed that they understood each 
other. That was in the long ago easy time of 
their crude acceptances of faiths made ready by 
the traditions in which they had been reared. 
Faiths to which now they could never return. 
Nothing could ever be more interesting than this 
problem which each held out for the other's 
solving. It allured, it challenged, it baffled. 
They knew that they were playing a fine and vivid 
game. The times between, when the game was 
not in progress, were dull and savorless. They 
came to it eagerly, always, sometimes with a kind 
of joyous alacrity, sometimes with a kind of terror 
at the possible outcome. But whatever the out- 
come, life had gained in significance. They were 
of the initiated. 

“But I never knew,’' she said often to herself, 
“I never knew life was like this.” She had been 
but a dull child accepting what was told her. 


3i8 INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Now she was beginning to prove for herself. 
Throughout the game ran a quiver of pain. It 
gave her a charm that she had never before 
possessed, the allure of mystery. She was less 
simple and far more interesting. Wistfulness 
enveloped her. The people about her perceived 
vaguely something of Sally’s struggle and that a 
change had come over her. There were moments 
when she was heartsick, yet with a resolute step 
and a look of suffering bewilderment, she went 
her way valiantly. No preoccupation was allowed 
to interfere with her work. But often she felt as 
though she were walking in a dream and as though 
her only waking moments were those spent with 
William Van Besten. So great a need as this for 
his presence her nature until now had never 
known. She knew now how ignorant had been 
that easy renunciation of him which she had 
declared that fall day at the Deep Hole. Only a 
few months had elapsed, yet that day seemed far 
back in the time of unrealized things. 

There was something delightfully hospitable 
in the atmosphere of the old barn. The deep 
slants of roof came down on either side in so 
protecting a fashion. Mellow shadows lay under 
the deep eaves. A bar of gold fell across Sally’s 
pretty hair. There was something child-like in 
her position as she sat on the edge of the haymow 
leaning up against the big square beam. In spite 
of its fresh color, her face against the warm brown 
background looked strangely weary. Her hands 


THE OLD HAT BARN 


319 


lay listlessly in her lap. A womanly patience 
was fast replacing her old almost boyish alertness. 

William felt the change in her. He kept drawing 
nearer. The field mice and the squirrels went 
unheeding about their own concerns. What did 
they care for the joy or the anguish or the self- 
tormentings of a man and a woman ? The man 
and the woman fell under the spell of the old 
barn. Nature, great potent teacher, taught them 
her lesson. The moment was ripe that had long 
been in preparation. 

She felt his approach but she did not move. 
She did not hold him off. No fight was left in 
her. Not that the will to do right was lost or 
lessened. Only, what was right ? Living was so 
much less simple than in her unawakened days 
she had believed. William leaned over her. His 
strong lips looked flushed. She felt them coming 
nearer and nearer, and her own lips trembled. 
Troubled eyes looked into troubled eyes, ques- 
tioning, pleading, demanding as of right. “Sally!’’ 
William whispered huskily. “Sally!” His arms 
went around her. 

A high desire throbbed within her to be good 
to this man, to be to him all that he would have 
her. She could not feel the desire mean or base 
or wronging another. Nature, dominant in the 
old barn, gently swept away all perplexities, all 
subterfuges. The course lay straight and clear 
at last, undeniably so because irresistible. Very 
feebly her appealing hands sought to hold him off. 


320 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

then desisted from the futile, unmeaning effort. 
The way she pressed him from her urged him to 
draw near. There was no denying the urgency 
of the summons. 

In his thick, smooth hair she noticed a few 
strands of gray. With difficulty she refrained 
from laying her hand on them. William was 
too young to have gray hairs yet. She noticed the 
perpendicular furrows forming between his eyes, 
and longed to make life so pleasant to him that he 
would no longer feel inclined to frown. She felt 
that she could do much toward that. How strong 
his hand felt, the long, shapely hand that overlay 
her own, held in happy captivity. Sally drew a 
long breath — not a sigh of unhappiness, but of 
relief, a tired letting go of perplexities. Here she 
and William were, shut in by themselves. For the 
moment that was enough. 

Time did not matter. Neither thought of time 
as they sat there. He held her in his arms. She 
rested willingly against his breast. Why could not 
the moment last! She longed for it to last. She 
did not want to puzzle, to reason any more. The 
spring pulse in all animate things coursed through 
their veins. William’s spirit seemed to look out at 
her like flame dancing behind veils of mist. All 
subterfuge fell away from her as the woman’s spirit 
answered. She went willingly into the compelling 
arms yearning to receive her. The spring sunlight 
rayed them with gold. The great wise beneficent 
spirit of harvests past and to come smiled on them. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

IN KIRTON SOCIETY 

E very day after the early dinner, Sally sat 
with Joe in his bed-room for a little while. 
She and Annie had agreed that Joe must be cheered 
in every possible way. He had pain to endure 
and, worse than pain, foreboding worry over the 
family loss, restive rebellion against captivity 
when he longed to be doing. 

As she retailed bits of gossip gleaned from her 
customers or allowed her ready tongue unscrupu- 
lously to turn the ways of those good ladies into 
ridicule for Joe’s amusement, Sally sometimes 
wondered if her heart were not heavier than his, 
if truth were known. There must be something 
of relief in making one’s wail audible. 

She thought of those gray dawn hours when she 
went over and over and over what had been. 
Hours which made her heart beat fast and she 
clasped her pillow fiercely, thinking that she 
might be very wicked not to repent, but sure, 
quite sure, that she did not repent. She set her 
soft lips together, much as William Van Besten 
321 


322 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

often set his lips, and defied desolation if it came. 
Emotions, misgivings, strange thrills of exultation 
tore her, pulled her spirit this way and that, until 
she felt tired and bruised and passive. She 
suffered, yet all the time she hugged her pain and 
would not willingly have lost it in oblivion of all 
that it had brought with it. 

Little Joe frolicked about his father on the bed, 
believing it a special privilege to be admitted to 
the sick-room. How should he suspect that his 
plotting mother had pressed him too into the ser- 
vice, and that he was expected to be a little mis- 
sionary of cheer to his pale and languid father ? 

“Oh, baby, don’t be so rough with poor father,” 
Mrs. Haselton expostulated. 

Sally looked on wistfully. Good, loving, and 
loyal to her, the family were yet complete without 
her. Loneliness enveloped her like a fog. She 
jumped up. “Well, I must go back to my 
sewing.” 

“Seems to me Sally looks rather fagged,” Joseph 
Haselton commented uneasily, when she had 
left the room. 

“Yes, Sally is thin,” Mrs. Haselton agreed. 
“But we’ll soon be in our own house again, and 
then she’ll pick up. It’s been a hard winter for 
her, too.” 

“She’s been a little brick, all right,” her brother 
said heartily. 

“Come, Joe, it’s time for your nap.” With a 
practised hand Mrs. Haselton arranged the pillows. 


IN KIRTON SOCIETY 


323 


When Joe had stretched himself at full length 
she tucked in the bedclothes snugly, smiling at him 
cheerfully the while. Not for much would she 
have had him divine the pang with which she 
realized afresh how weak and white he still was. 

“And what are you going to do, old lady.?” 
he asked. 

“I’m going to take the baby and do some errands 
that I’ve been wanting to accomplish this long 
time.” 

“That’s right. Now that I’m so much better 
you ought to get out every day. I want you to, 
Annie.” But he still clung to her hand, reluctant 
to relinquish the tender prop. Obeying the 
invitation in his eyes, his wife bent down and 
kissed him before she went away. 

When she returned an hour or so later, she 
sought her sister-in-law. 

“Sally, where are you .? ” Mrs. Haselton called 
softly, mindful that Joe might still be napping. 
Sally, looking up at the call, thought the walk had 
done Annie good. Her cheeks were brighter than 
they had been of late. Her eyes were animated. 
She crossed the room swiftly and bending over, 
laid her cheek caressingly against Sally’s. “You 
oughtn’t to have done it, dear. It’s too much for 
you to do.” 

“What in the world are you talking about?” 
But although she questioned, Sally’s face was 
conscious. 

“I’ve been so worried about the doctor’s bill,” 


324 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Mrs. Haselton said. “I knew it was worrying 
Joe. There was all weVe had these last months 
and little Joe’s scarlatina.” 

“The doctor was perfectly willing to wait,” 
Sally said shortly. 

“I know he was, but it’s bothered me a lot. 
Joe’s always hated so to let any bill run on. I 
stopped in at the Doctor’s to have a little private 
talk about Joe, and I mentioned the bill. He 
said there wasn’t any bill to amount to anything. 
He said you’d paid it.” 

“I didn’t want to have that hanging over our 
heads any longer.” Sally threaded her needle with 
an air of concentration as though dismissing a 
matter of small import. 

“I couldn’t begin to thank you,” Mrs. Haselton 
said earnestly. “ Joe was just saying how splendid 
you’d been. It’s awfully generous of you. When 
he’s all right again he’ll see that you get this back.” 

“No he won’t. I won’t let him,” his sister said. 
Somehow Annie’s frank loving gratitude made 
her feel like a hypocrite. She might shower loving 
kindnesses upon these dear people, but in her 
heart she recognized an inner alienation. Her 
heart went out to them in a very passion of service 
just because they no longer sufficed her. That 
was why, in spite of all she could do lor them, she 
felt such aching sense of disloyalty. 

It seemed to her that for many days now the 
people among whom her life was cast, her nearest 
and dearest, had become as shadows moving on 


IN KIRTON SOCIETY 


325 


the outside of her intimate drama. Then com- 
punction seized her for what seemed like fickleness 
toward them. She did not understand her own 
moods, but she knew that serenity was gone. 
“Tm so restless, so terribly restless,’’ she moaned 
to herself in self-pity. 

“Dear William, I am going up to Kirton on 
Tuesday to stay overnight with the McKinstrys. 
Perhaps I may see you there. Ada McKinstry 
tells me that she has sent you a card for their 
little company on Tuesday evening.” William 
straightened out the nonchalent little note, read 
it over and over. Somehow it hurt him that it 
should be so curt and business-like. In vain he 
sought between the lines any hint of warmth, of 
tenderness, of Sally’s self. Finally he thrust the 
note back in its envelope and put it away in his 
pocket. He had forgotten about the McKinstry’s 
card until this reminder. The social affairs of 
Kirton seldom interested him. Maids and matrons 
frequently tried in vain to persuade him to augment 
the scanty sprinkling of men at Kirton parties. 
But he would go to the McKinstrys. Sally must 
know how ardently he longed to see her, how 
difficult it was at times to allow two, three, four 
days to elapse between his visits to Manor- 
ton. Tuesday, that was to-day, he would see 
Sally then this evening. Involuntarily his eyes 
sparkled, his lips smiled. Gladness thrilled 
through him. It would be oddly interesting to 
observe Sally against a background of Kirton 


326 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

people. She had none of their stereotyped ways. 

“You dear thing, Fm so glad youVe come.” 
Ada McKinstry welcomed Sally with effusive 
overpowering cordiality. Miss McKinstry was 
a big blond young woman with an excess of ani- 
mation. Her mother gave Sally cordial but 
quieter welcome. Mrs. McKinstry, like her 
daughter, was big and blonde, but the fairness and 
brightness of her tints had long been dimmed. 
From her vantage point of some fifty years she 
surveyed the younger generation with critical 
reservations. 

“My dear, what has become of your rosy 
cheeks,” she said. “You look rather pale.” 

“Come upstairs, Sally. Fve a thousand things 
to tell you. Is Mr. Van Besten coming to-night ” 
Miss McKinstry asked. 

“I don’t know. I wrote him yesterday that I 
would be here,” Sally answered composedly. 

“Of course he’ll come then.” 

It was Sally’s own opinion. Her spirits rose. 
Manorton worries faded away. Uppermost now 
was the prompting to show herself to William in 
a new light. She tossed away all recollection 
which sought to worry. In her dress suit case was 
her pretty new dress. When she put it on pres- 
ently she would put on at the same time a new 
mental attitude. She would be her old inde- 
pendent, self-governing self, as he should recognize. 
The McKinstry family enveloped her with hos- 
pitable attentions and found her gay and charming. 


IN KIRTON SOCIETT 


327 


By the time the guests began to come in the 
evening a becoming bloom had returned to Sally’s 
cheeks. She carefully concealed her expectancy 
but she was watchful for William’s appearance 
and saw him as he paused on the threshold, 
looking remarkably tall and dignified in his 
correct evening dress. As Sally went forward to 
greet him, she felt Ada McKinstry’s interested 
gaze, and Walker McKinstry’s too. 

“How do you do, William. I’m so glad you 
could come.” 

Her sweeping robe gave her stateliness. She 
was bright-eyed and lovely to look at in her white 
lace dress, and subtly different from the hard- 
working Sally of home. 

William came forward eagerly with a look that 
was for her alone, but her breezy self-possession 
held him off. His bow was ceremonious. Their 
hands touched formally, then fell apart as other 
acquaintances claimed her attention. William 
Van Besten stood in dreary boredom watching her 
from afar. One potent factor in his discontent 
was the uneasy sense of social unfitness. With 
mortification he perceived himself to be chron- 
ically bankrupt in the necessary small change of 
conversation, unable to respond in kind to banter, 
gay trifling. He declined joining the coterie of 
bridge players in the library. The stack of 
foreign photographs, Mr. McKinstry’s collection 
of puzzles, the various traps for entertainment 
which the McKinstrys had set for their guests 


328 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

failed to allure, nor did it occur to the young 
merchant to pretend that they did. 

“How well Sally looks to-night.’’ Miss Mc- 
Kinstry was beside him, hospitably intent on 
thawing her stilf-mannered guest into aflPability. 
“I tell her she ought to wear white all the time. 
She has such a lovely color.” 

Mr. Van Besten glanced at Sally unresponsively. 
The subject did not appear to interest him. Miss 
McKinstry conducted him to a lonely lady sitting 
on a sofa and left the two to struggle with each 
other. 

William Van Besten rallied his courtesy to 
listen, to respond. Across the room Sally was 
gaily laughing and talking. Her many Kirton 
acquaintances made much of her. 

William felt her easy give and take in flattering 
contrast to his own constraint. Sally certainly 
possessed the social gift in which he was lacking. 
Nor did it look like an artificial trick. Sally’s 
great charm had always been her naturalness. A 
delightful instinct of friendliness saved her straight- 
forwardness from becoming harsh or brusque. 
With that she was piquante, no mush of amia- 
bility. Sally could deal stout blows upon occasion, 
sometimes with a laugh, sometimes with a frown. 
But then, if she felt that the blow had been un- 
merited, or if she saw that it hurt, she was so 
eagerly, generously anxious to atone, to appease 
the hurt. 

It seemed to the man watching her that she 


IN KIRTON SOCIET 


329 


possessed an alluring, independent grace which 
none of the others there possessed. The other 
women were pretty enough, pleasant enough, but 
her vivid personality stood out against their 
personalities as against a dull monotone of back- 
ground. William Van Besten noticed other eyes 
than his own rest admiringly upon her. 

With a somewhat humbled mien, he finally 
joined the group about her. As she smiled up at 
him with a kind of airy challenge, he seemed to 
feel her spirit defying his, saying: “You see, you 
are not all important after all. I have other 
friends, other interests.” Her hazel eyes glowed. 
Sally was finding her little social success exhiler- 
ating. 

“How long are you going to be up here, Sally ? ” 
His constrained voice sounded as though he were 
secretly reproaching her for being here in her 
pretty new dress having such a good time. He 
felt himself that his betrayal of dissatisfaction 
was ridiculous. 

Sally brightened mischievously. She looked 
joyously elate as he had not seen her look for a 
long time. 

“I have to go back to-morrow afternoon.” 

“ril see you to-morrow.” He spoke eagerly. 
She found herself breathing more quickly under 
his look. With all her might she strove to main- 
tain a superficial tone. “What are you going to 
do in the morning .? Will you take a drive ” 

“I can’t, William, thank you.” She hesitated, 


330 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

then laughed out gaily. “I think it’s more than 
likely that I’ll make you a call in the morning. 
Ada and I are going shopping. I’ve quantities of 
things to buy for quantities of people. William, 
have you ever realized what an excellent customer 
you have in me ? ” 

But William was in no mood to be cajoled into 
gaiety. “Will you and Miss McKinstry lunch 
with me ? ” 

She looked brightly apologetic. “Why we 
can’t, William. Walker is going to take us out 
to the Country Club for lunch.” 

William’s face grew cloudier. “Will you let 
me drive you down to Manorton in the afternoon .? ” 
he asked, in rather a low voice. 

She gave him a deprecating shake of the head. 

“That’s awfully good of you, William.” She 
hesitated, wanting to be kind, willing now that he 
should see her compunction at the series of petty 
rebuffs she was administering. “But — ^Walker’s 
going to drive me down.” Instantly William 
seemed to incase himself in a glacial neutrality 
toward her and all the world. “You see, it was 
all arranged when I came up that he should drive 
me down,” she added hurriedly, watching his 
face. “Walker hasn’t been to Manorton for ever 
so long. He thought he’d like to see the place 
again.” She knew uneasily that her explanatory 
tone was wasted. 

“Yes.?” he said, in a cool, hard tone. “Well, 
I hope you’ll enjoy your visit. Sorry there’s 


IN KIRTON SOCIETY 


331 


nothing I can do for you.” He glanced casually 
around him. “This is really a most attractive 
house, isn’t it I don’t think I’ve been here since 
Mr. McKinstry remodelled it. It’s certainly 
greatly improved.” She felt him suddenly remote, 
impenetrable, and could not bear to have him 
so. In her impulsive fashion she stepped closer. 
“William, I’m awfully sorry. If I hadn’t prom- 
ised Walker I’d love to have you take me.” Her 
kind, bright eyes pleaded with him to understand. 

“Very good of you.” William’s face remained 
hard and grim. “I’ll say good-night now.” 

“But you’ll be down on Friday ? Joe said you 
were coming.” 

“Yes. Joe wants to discuss some business 
matters with me.” His tone might have issued 
from a talking machine, it was so void of warmth. 

“Until Friday then.” She offered him her hand. 

William touched it grudgingly. “Good even- 
ing, Sally.” 

“I hope our quiet little party wasn’t too much 
for you, Sally,” Mrs. McKinstry said next morning 
at the breakfast table. The speech conveyed 
reproach to Sally. She felt that she was not playing 
the role of guest as successfully this morning as 
she had yesterday. Abstraction lay in wait for 
her. She roused herself. “ Oh, no indeed, 
Mrs. McKinstry, your party was delightful.” 

“Now we’ve caught you we’re never going to 
let you go home this afternoon,” Ada McKinstry 
threatened hospitably. 


^^2 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

“ Do stay with us a little longer/’ urged Walker. 
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do if you’ll stay.” 

His insistent inducements sounded tiresome 
in Sally’s ears. Walker meant well, but what an 
utterly common-place being he was. Her heart 
sank at the thought of the eight miles drive 
tete-a-tete. Was it worth while to have irritated 
William for the sake of this good-natured num- 
skull ? In spite of the diversions planned for her 
entertainment the day stretched drearily ahead 
of her. “I wish, I wish I hadn’t come.” She 
gave a start and glanced at the placid faces of the 
McKinstrys. She had thought the wish so 
intensely that it seemed to her it must have been 
audible. She had hoped the whilf of a different 
atmosphere, a little pleasuring, would bring back 
something which she had missed in herself of late, 
matter of course ease of mind. Life had grown 
so unrestful, even its joyous moments quivered 
with uncertainties. Her spirit felt fatigued with 
its own fluctuations, its own misgivings. Judge 
McKinstry and Walker went away to their offices. 
Mrs. McKinstry disappeared in the kitchen 
regions, intent upon housekeeping. Ada, too, had 
a few tasks to accomplish before she and Sally 
set forth to shop. There was ample entertainment 
in the comfortable sitting-room, with its open fire, 
the society of a cat and a dog, abundance of books 
and magazines. As a pretence for doing nothing 
unassailed, she opened a magazine. She was glad 
to have Mrs. McKinstry and Ada leave her to 


IN KIRTON SOCIETY 


333 


herself for a little while, glad to be free to stare 
moodily into the fire, careless whether she looked 
as dissatisfied as she felt. 

The doorbell rang. The maid went to answer 
it. When she opened the sitting-room door Mrs. 
Van Besten was apparently reading in great 
comfort, her feet on the fender. “If you please, 
ma’am, there’s a lady would like to see you.” 

“Who is it, Bridget.?” 

“Here’s her card, ma’am.” 

Sally took the card and read the name engraved 
upon it. It brought a flush, a singular look to 
her face. Bridget made a clumsy shuffle to remind 
that she was still waiting. Mrs. Van Besten was 
unmindful of Bridget, as holding her head erect 
with the manner of one on guard against unknown 
possibilities, she sought her caller in the parlor. 

“You wish to see me ? ” 

The woman standing there waiting for her 
looked her over from head to foot. Her own 
graceful figure, a little too attenuated at present, 
had perhaps more grace, made more poetic appeal. 
Sally’s possessed just the charm of vigor and good 
proportion, frank, unsubtle. In the woman’s 
dark eyes burned unhappy passion goading her 
to action for which later on she would weep with 
shame. To-day she cared for no shame. All 
that she knew was that she could no longer bear 
to feel herself of no account, dropped out of 
consideration, like the faded, breeze-scattered 
petals of a flower once lovely, once prized. She 


334 INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

wanted to hurt the woman who had robbed her. 
In saner moments she reasoned wisely, admitted 
to herself the bitter truth that it was she who was 
the thief, the interloper. Then hopeless, unap- 
peasable longing swept her away on a current she 
could not stem. Still it was less hate than unutter- 
able pain that Sally saw in the dark anguished eyes. 

“You wish to see me?” she asked again, and 
this time her voice sounded less challenging. 

“If you please. You are Mrs. Van Besten, I 
believe ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“I have something here that may interest you.” 
Her nervous hand drew a sheaf of notes from a 
small bag. She held it out defiantly. “I meant 
to destroy them but I thought it fair to myself 
that you should have them. Why should I be the 
only one to suffer ? You might as well know 
what manner of man William Van Besten is.” 

As she accepted the letters Sally recognized the 
writing on the uppermost envelope. She divined 
what she held in her hand. 

“Are you sure you want me to read these 
letters ? ” she asked, searchingly. 

“Yes, of course. Why else should I have 
brought them ? ” It was apparent that she was 
doing violence to her own delicacy, her own 
instincts; Was in wild revolt against herself. 

The two women stood studying each other. In 
the suffering defeated expression Sally recognized 
a reflection of much that she herself had learned 


IN KIRTON SOCIETY 


335 


to know. The arrogance that had risen within 
her to greet her visitor, her scorn of her for coming, 
were suddenly swept away in a mighty impulse 
of compassion. 

‘‘ I don’t need to read these letters.” Her voice 
sounded low and strange. 

“You know ? Then he has told you ? ” Shame 
burned in the delicate tortured face. “He might 
have spared me that humiliation. It was base of 
him to tell.” 

“He thought he ought to tell me.” The other 
drew herself up proudly. They looked at each 
other in a kind of helpless entanglement, not 
knowing what to do, what to say. Then Sally 
spoke: 

“You are awfully unhappy. I’m not angry. I 
know it’s because you’re so unhappy that you 
came. I understand.” Sally almost whispered 
the words. “I’m not very happy myself.” Her 
voice quivered. “You needn’t envy me. I’m 
trying to do right, but it’s very hard. I don’t 
know — I don’t blame you any more 

Neither knew how it happened. They were 
clasping hands, looking at each other with softened 
faces, with quivering lips. Not antagonists — two 
puzzled, heart-sick women. 

“These letters,” Sally said presently, looking 
down on them. “Whatever is in them was 
sincerely written, was written for you. Nothing 
can undo that, take that truth away from you. 
They are between you and him. Let’s leave it 


336 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

so for all time. Shall we ? ” Sally spoke tenderly, 
as though she would protect the other from herself. 
“But the sight of them will always make you 
suffer. They have become poisonous to you. It 
will be best to have them out of the world.’’ 
Sally glanced toward the fire on the hearth with a 
world of suggestion. She put the little package 
back in her visitor’s hand. The other wavered 
for an instant and Sally feared for her decision, 
felt anxiety pulse at her heart. Then the other 
crossed the room, leaned over, thrust the letters 
down between two logs into a red-hot bed of coals. 
But the compact bunch was slow in kindling. It 
seemed a long time before it caught, smoked, 
blackened, a clear bright flame burnt up between 
the logs. The women stood waiting in silence 
until a few crumbling flakes were all that was 
left of the letters. With an instinct of compassion, 
Sally refrained from looking at her visitor’s face. 
The latter was the first to speak. “I must go. I 
ought never to have come of course. But I 
shan’t try to explain or apologize. Good morn- 
ing, Mrs. Van Besten.” She hesitated, then 
turned in her swift, graceful way. 

Sally stepped swiftly to intercept her passage 
to the door. “Don’t hate me. Please don’t hate 
me,” she entreated in a low, moved way. 

The other paused. She, too, was tense and 
white with the emotion of the interview. She 
seemed to be struggling with herself, obeying some 
evil, singular prompting to recall the hate and 


IN KIRTON SOCIETY 


337 


malice she had brought with her. But looking 
into the other’s face all kindled with compre- 
hension, with nothing of the scorn, the accusation, 
the reproach she had expected to find, but instead 
only a kind of sad appeal, as though they two were 
fellow sufferers, the steel clutch relaxed. “Why, 
I don’t hate you,” she said, in a slow, bewildered 
way. The other’s expression still held her fasci- 
nated gaze. “I thought I did, but I don’t.” 
They gave each other another long puzzled look 
and then, without another word, she went away. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


FINAL CERTAINTIES. CONCLUSION 

A HORRID persistent gnaw of misgiving was 
Sally’s portion to-day. It made shopping a 
dreary business, void of interest. It destroyed all 
possibility of pleasure in the excursion to the 
Country Club which Walker McKinstry had 
arranged with lavish, anxious desire to do her 
honor. Ever since they were boy and girl. Walker 
McKinstry had admired Sally Haselton in a 
faithful, futile way. Sally did her best not to 
disappoint him. She walked at his side, feeling 
very much as though she was in a tedious dream, 
trying to respond, trying to admire, and secretly 
longing for this wretched day to end. That long 
drive down to Manorton with Walker loomed 
ahead of her, a prospect of horror. It seemed 
impossible to go with him now, leaving William 
Van Besten misunderstanding and alienated. 
Manorton and Kirton seemed farther apart than 
ever they had done before. She wished the 
tedious hours away, yet dreaded the arrival of 
the moment of departure. 

338 


FINAL CERTAINTIES 


339 


Walker, foolishly elated at the pleasure in store 
for him, made continual reference to their drive. 
Sally found his continual reminder irritating. 

“What time will you be ready, Sally? I think 
perhaps we ought to start about four.’’ 

“Very well. Walker, I’ll be ready,” Sally said 
reluctantly. Lazily she went upstairs to pack. 
Meantime Ada McKinstry sat chatting with her 
friend. “I’m so glad you came up, Sally. We’ve 
enjoyed your visit ever so much. I only wish you 
could have stayed over another day,” she said 
hospitably. 

Somewhere downstairs a clock struck four musi- 
cal beats. Sally glanced out of the window and 
saw Walker driving toward the house. Her 
dismay strengthened. But her travelling case 
was packed. Her hat and jacket lav ready to be 
donned. 

“It’s too bad you can’t stay longer,” Miss 
McKinstry repeated. 

Sally flushed a little as she turned away from 
the window. “I don’t suppose it will make any 
great difference if I don’t get back until to- 
morrow.” 

Miss McKinstry regarded her with genuine 
surprise. Then she recollected herself. “ Do you 
mean that you will stay ? Why, that’s very nice 
of you, Sally.” Somehow her hospitality seemed 
less spontaneous. The guest divined that the 
change of plan was a trifle disconcerting, yet felt 
shamelessly relieved to have postponed departure. 


340 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

Ada ran downstairs and opened the door to her 
brother. “Walker, Sally’s not going after all.” 

“Not going! What do you mean ? ” 

Sally looked and felt shamefaced as she followed 
Ada downstairs. “You see, you’ve treated me 
altogether too well.” Her little laugh was apolo- 
getic. “I can’t tear myself away from this kind 
family.” Sally tried to speak lightly. “I told 
Ada that I thought home could get along very well 
without me for one more day. Walker, I hope 
you aren’t perfectly disgusted with me for being 
so changeable.” 

“That’s all right, of course, Sally. I’m de- 
lighted to have you stay.” But he looked almost 
humorously disappointed. “Well, I might as 
well go and put out my horse.” 

For a few minutes Sally was alone. “Mother, 
Sally’s decided to stay until to-morrow.” Sally 
overheard the announcement. 

“Has she?” Mrs. McKinstry answered in 
great surprise. “Why I thought she said she had 
to get back.” 

Ada made no answer. 

“Then, Ada, we’d better not try to can those 
strawberries until to-morrow. I was going to 
do them this afternoon.” The listener perceived 
a tinge of regret in Mrs. McKinstry’s voice and 
felt a pang of discomfort to have become an 
interruption. Nevertheless, she felt defiantly glad 
that she was not at this moment driving away 
from Kirton with Walker McKinstry. This pro- 


FINAL CERTAINTIES 


341 


longation of her visit to an anti-climax could not 
be helped. She had been impelled to remain. 

Surely time never before dragged so leaden- 
weighted. In sickness of spirit Sally endured the 
tedious hours. If she had carried out her first 
intention, she would have been home now. The 
thought of home, of Joe’s and Annie’s matter-of- 
fact kindliness, of little Joe’s boisterous welcome 
had become strangely distasteful. All the savor 
had gone out of her usual daily existence. The 
distance between Manorton and Kirton stretched 
interminably. 

After supper Judge McKinstry, with courteous 
excuse to the guest, summoned his son to the 
library for a business parley. Miss McKinstry 
Was called to the parlor to see a young woman 
protege, come for help and advice. Mrs. Mc- 
Kinstry, anxious housewife always, had but divided 
attention to offer Sally Van Besten. “My dear, 
if you don’t mind being left to yourself for a little 
while I think I’d better go and speak to Bridget 
about breakfast,” she said. 

Sally assured her that she did not mind. Mind! 
If they only knew what a relief it was to be left to 
herself. She stepped softly past the library door 
behind which she heard Judge McKinstry’s heavy 
voice haranguing Walker, out upon the porch. She 
stood leaning against a pillar gazing out into the 
summer night. Strange the aching tenderness 
she felt toward the woman with whom she had 
spoken to-day for the first time. She recalled the 


342 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

delicate features, the dark, beautiful eyes, the 
quick grace of movement; and very humbly and 
wistfully believed herself to be possessed of lesser 
charm. Yet strangely enough it was she, not the 
other, for whom William cared. An uncontrol- 
lable joy bubbled up in her heart as that conviction 
came home. She drew a long, half-stifled sigh as 
she closed her eyes the better to summon a sweet, 
warm revivifying thrill that she had learned to 
know. Ardently she wished that William knew 
that she had not gone with Walker. To-morrow 
would soon be here. Then she really must go. 
The McKinstrys expected her to go. In oppo- 
sition to the pull bidding her stay longer she felt 
convinced that a potent though indefinable pres- 
sure would push her off, start her for Manorton 
to-morrow. 

She looked wistfully down the street. She 
wondered whether William was as disquiet as 
herself. The day had been a slow torture to 
her. She dreaded the long night. She was so 
weary with unhappiness. She glanced guiltily 
back into the house where the family was absorbed 
in its own affairs. A steady feminine murmur 
sounded from the parlor. Just as she was, in her 
white summer gown, bareheaded, she went quickly 
down the steps, out into the street. The soft 
evening air was refreshing. The streets were not 
lighted to-night. In expectation of moonlight the 
economical city fathers trusted her serenity to 
light their city for them. But she did so fitfully. 


FINAL CERTAINTIES 


343 


Soft summer clouds played hide and seek with the 
moon. For a few minutes all would be lovely and 
luminous, then all at once the world would be 
drenched in obscurity, all shadowy and mysterious. 
Sally felt rather like a shadow herself as she sped 
along. 

She walked more slowly as she neared her 
destination. The last time she had been to Wil- 
liam’s house he had accompanied her. They 
had been so carelessly happy that day. Like two 
merry children playing at housekeeping. Their 
fun had seemed so harmless and delightful. Then 
all at once had struck the knell of their merry 
comradery. Out of a portion of William’s 
life, of which until that moment she had been 
ignorant, had emerged a woman who had dispelled 
laughter. Because of her, life could never again 
be the easy, the superficial thing it had been. 
“But when I was a man I put away childish 
things.” It seemed to Sally that from the moment 
of the woman’s coming she herself had been 
summoned to play with life no longer. Ever since 
then she knew that she had been glimpsing more 
and more clearly values until then never suspected. 
The process had been forced upon her, transform- 
ing her, taking her out of her own petty power of 
direction. She paused at William’s gate. The 
iron fence excluded her grimly, as William’s look 
had done last evening. 

William Van Besten sat solitary in his latticed 
porch, the sweetness drifting over him from 


344 INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

thousands of unseen blossoms, filling him with 
intolerable longing and restlessness. He did not 
know how to appease the hungry clamor for 
something beyond reach, which goaded him to 
his feet finally and made him take to walking up 
and down. Surely he was a weakling or he could 
have forced circumstances to finer issues. He 
regarded himself with contempt as well as dissatis- 
faction. Because he was a bungler at living, three 
people were unhappy. The intermittent moon- 
light revealed the squat form of speckled toads 
which hopped out from one dim hiding place 
after another to enjoy the night air. William 
watched them moodily. Little grotesque beings 
capable they seemed of exercising evil enchant- 
ments such as lie in wait for men in shadowy 
places. 

He did not hear the front gate opened and light 
hesitant footsteps on the flagged walk until Sally 
stood at the porch. Suddenly he knew that he 
was no longer alone. 

“William!’’ 

He had turned toward her before the low call. 
All that the man possessed, heart and spirit and 
flesh, called welcome to her as he went eagerly 
down the steps to meet her. 

“You didn’t go ? ” 

“No. I — I thought I wouldn’t. I came to 
tell you that I didn’t drive down with Walker after 
all. I didn’t want to go with Walker.” Trying 
to smile confidently she looked up at him with a 


FINAL CERTAINTIES 


345 

wavering appeal of which she was unconscious. 
He answered it instantly. 

‘‘Fm very glad you didn’t go.” He spoke very 
gently, very deferentially. 

With quick relief, Sally felt that just as she had 
hoped, William would understand. She quite 
longed to reward him for understanding. 

“I thought perhaps, William — if you weren’t 
too busy, that is — ^perhaps you’d drive me down 
to-morrow .? ” 

He scarcely knew what she was talking about as 
he took her hands, her soft, firm, little hands. 

“ Do you think you can ? Of course not if it’s 
inconvenient,” she added anxiously. 

‘Ht will be convenient, dear.” His voice exulted 
in her coming, filled her with happy confusion. 

“Perhaps I oughtn’t to have come, but I 
thought Fd better let you know I was still here. 
But I must go back in a minute, they’ll be wonder- 
ing what has become of me.” 

Happily enough she yielded to the gentle com- 
pulsion with which William drew her down beside 
him on the steps. 

“William, do you know how you looked at me 
last night ? ” she whispered presently. “ I couldn’t 
go back home and leave you feeling that way. I 
couldn’t do it.” 

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Thank you 
for coming,” he answered huskily. 

Peace enfolded them. The sweetness of the 
blossoms had lost its sadness. The faint sleepy 


346 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

cheeping of birds and insects sounded like little 
joy bells in the night. Night was drifting softly 
down upon the waiting earth. William felt little 
tremors run over Sally as though the night chill 
struck through her thin dress. He roused himself. 
“Dearest, Tm afraid it’s too cold for you out 
here. You must come into the house.” 

“No, I must go,” she said uneasily. “I’m 
not cold.” But she yielded to the tender force 
with which he drew her to her feet. 

“You’re shivering, dear. You must come into 
the house.” She recognized authority, tender, 
inflexible care of her to which she yielded with a 
kind of joy in submission. 

William threw open the door and hand in hand 
they went into the house. As they went through 
the hall he turned on the gas a little way in the 
old-time chandelier that hung there. The crystal 
prisms clashed in a joyous tinkle of welcome. 
The light from it fell softly into the quiet sitting- 
room as they turned happy faces toward each 
other. William drew her toward him. Wonderful 
to him what the last months had written in her 
face. They had worn away something of its 
roundness of contour. They had brought to it 
a fire and nobility it had not used to possess. Her 
soul looked out of her eyes at him, made appeal 
that was even solemn to his manhood. 

Touching her with a wonderful regard and 
tenderness, he ensconced her in a great mahogany 
chair, one of the treasures of his collection. It 


FINAL CERTAINTIES 


347 


thrilled him to touch her flesh through the sheer, 
clinging fabric of her gown. She saw him flush 
and she quivered under his light touch. 

Some two hundred years earlier that chair had 
been the property of a judge famous throughout 
the State for vigorous perspicacity. Slender and 
girlish in her white draperies, Sally scarcely filled 
the judge’s chair. William knelt down before his 
judge and put his arms about her. A low wonder- 
ful melody throbbed about them, filled the peace- 
ful room. 

Sally drew a long breath. Almost as though his 
personality were new to her she took note of his 
square shoulders, his rather rugged features. All 
his little mannerisms, all his varying expressions 
had become significant to her. All her woman- 
liness went out to him. With a shy yet intimate 
gesture, she laid her hand lightly on his thick 
brown hair. They regarded each other dizzily. 

“You must teach me not to be selfish,” he 
said huskily. 

The summer night pulsed about them, always 
more intense. From the flowering shrubs out in the 
yard countless delicate horns lavishly flung forth 
nectar. The wonderful sweetness stole through 
the heavy shutters that guarded man and woman 
in happy isolation. They breathed it and it helped 
to quicken the beat of their hearts. A silence, 
significant and charged with ecstacy, fell over 
them like a golden chain holding them together as 
they regarded each other with startled acquiescence. 


348 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

For so long they had fumbled, doubted, mis- 
trusted the call. Often they had been glad and 
merry together. Often they had been sad and 
constrained. Always heretofore they had sought 
consciously to pull the strings by which their 
drama was enacted. But at last they had learned 
that their hands could no longer direct the strings 
— not hers, soft and feminine, not his, although 
they were both sensitive and strong. The strings 
had strengthened to coercive cables. Very won- 
derfully upon them lay the sense of strength 
through weakness, a weakness self-recognized at 
last and content to drift docilely on the great 
current. He was lonely and wanted her com- 
panionship, and she longed to give it to him. He 
had done wrong and therefore he needed love and 
forgiveness. The air was aquiver as the night 
came surely on, taking soft possession of the 
earth. Sally smiled faintly up at William, a 
sweet, heart-rending little smile that said many 
things. They did not know whether the time 
that passed was to be measured in minutes or 
hours. Suddenly, as though impelled by a mighty 
impulse, William rose strongly to his feet. Obed- 
ient to the suggestion of his clinging hands, she 
rose too. His face was flushed. She scarcely 
knew how to meet the gaze of his suffused blue- 
gray eyes. She felt his manhood surge about her, 
and involuntarily closed her own eyes. William’s 
lips throbbed to kiss the white lids and bid them 
open to reveal all that he had a right to know. 


FINAL CERTAINTIES 


349 


Her breathing grew short and quick. Her face 
in the soft light from the hall looked whitely 
luminous. It seemed to him that she swayed 
toward him as he caught her in his eager, imperious 
arms. They were conscious of nothing but each 
other. 

They never realized that the quality of the night 
was gradually changing and the stars no longer 
punctuated the summer sky and that the teasing 
clouds had their will of the moon at last, held 
her swathed in their thick gray veils. 

Like one awakening from a trance Sally sought 
her ancient moorings. ‘‘William, let me go.” 
Transformation, swift as the touch of a magician’s 
wand, fell upon her. He saw her grow elusive, 
then as he continued to look steadily at her he 
felt her spirit’s quick return to him. 

“Listen,” William said suddenly. Their atten- 
tion was arrested by a patter of rain that sounded 
like a low and pleasant croon about the house. 
Then it came more smartly in a mad, glad pelt 
against the shutters. The smell of the wet earth 
pushed into the room, insistent, stronger, more 
pungent than the flower fragrance that it dispelled. 

The last glimmer of twilight had long since 
faded. All its half revelations, its atmosphere of 
sweet, tantalizing ambiguities, hidden, fugitive 
promise of color and sweetness, had been succeeded 
by the solemn and potent night. The two, so 
strangely oblivious of passing time, felt the night, 
the great night enfold them. 


350 AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON 

They never heeded the slow subsiding of the 
rain or knew when it stopped. Nor were they 
aware that the stars were twinkling out once 
more in the dark velvety blue of the sky. Yet 
it was a long time before the gold glitter of the 
stars paled to silver. 

The whole earth hung in suspense awaiting the 
coming change of which these two were oblivious. 
The gas jets of the old crystal chandelier out in 
the hall seemed to shine more feebly for knowing 
that they were about to be eclipsed. The forces 
of the night were beginning to gather together for 
withdrawal, and still William and Sally paid no 
heed. The fair triumphant dawn was advancing 
slow and stately to inherit the triumphs of the 
night. She sent her scouts on from afar, faintly 
luminous heralds of the light she was bringing. 

The light in the room changed, became uncer- 
tain, interpenetrated with gray. 

Although the world still lay in shadow, the little 
birds knew that dawn would soon be here. One 
after another joined the chorus of twitter and song, 
swelling the glad sweet rollicking welcome. Pale 
uncertain shadows crept through the shutters, 
crept farther and farther across the floor. 

Sally saw the creeping shadows. She drew 
away from William and hid her face in trembling 
hands. She gave a great sob. 

Tenderly William sought to draw down the 
screening hands. It hurt him to see her tremble. 
“Dearest,’’ he whispered. His lips sought hers. 


FINAL CERTAINTIES 


351 


found them, although she tried to turn away, 
kissed them again, clung to them' again. A 
softened drip fell against the shutters. An intru- 
sive little breeze rioted into the room. 

All the spirit seemed to have gone out of proud, 
self-sufficient Sally. She looked shaken, defeated, 
her lips drooped pitifully as she leaned back 
among the cushions. William longed to comfort, 
to see her look up at him bright and happy. She 
scarcely heeded his clinging arms, his kisses. 

Suddenly from out in the garden came a low 
sweet call from some waking bird. It penetrated 
the brooding night. 

Sally started forward. Wonder and recollec- 
tion, glad recollection, transfigured her. “Wil- 
liam, Tm your wife.” 

Her quivering voice made almost a question of 
the statement. 

With an exquisite tenderness that paid her all 
possible tribute, William’s eyes met hers in the 
same glad recognition. “Yes, dearest, you are 
my wife.” 

Sally drew a long sigh of relief. Doubt and 
shame fled. “Then it’s all right. It’s all right!” 
Her hand lay more confidently in his. 

“It’s all right,” William repeated happily. 

[the end.] 


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